


Little Light of Mine

by TheKiwiBird



Series: Frosty!verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Also holy balls there is a lot of Gabriel tags, Also there are lots of other things!, BAMF Gabriel, BAMF Women, Cute monsters, Gabriel Lives, Gabriel vs. Leviathans, Hallucifer, Hallucifer singing, Hot badass maid, Human Gabriel, Hunter Gabriel, Lots of "What Measure is a Non-Human" shit to think about, Lots of different brands of Gabriels in this fic, Multi, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Protective Gabriel, Snarky kids, Teenagers, Trickster Gabriel, semi-random snippets of Latin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2017-12-14 09:33:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 55,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/835413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKiwiBird/pseuds/TheKiwiBird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winchesters make a pit stop in Midwest, Wyoming to investigate a Leviathan-related situation. Meanwhile, a supposedly dead archangel finds himself alone outside of the same town with no rhyme or reason as to why. Little does either party know they’ve somehow ended up on the same road from the start. Set between 7x14 and 7x15, spoilers ahoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Awake

**Author's Note:**

> ((Massive shout-outs to the trio of betas I've had on this fic; I've learned quite a bit since starting this fic, I really have!))

Highway 387, even in the dead of night, was a rather unimposing place to find yourself roadtripping on. It was the road connecting Interstate 25 on one side to Route 59 on the other. The towns 387 connected were just as quiet and unassuming as the road itself; Midwest was a small collection of houses sitting near the crossroads of 259 and 387, and Edgerton was a cozy little rest stop town sitting in the dip of the long road. The strip of road between the two, although one of the more active strips of road, didn't have any of those "tall tales" involving high speed chases with ten cop cars in tow, mobile meth labs exploding, or even an abundance of hit and runs. Even a man waking up in a ditch at half past three in the morning was a rarity.

****

However, this warm spring evening appeared to be a rare sort of night.

****

A mighty gasp of air filled the man's lungs as he shot his eyes open in shock. The scent of dirt, grass, pavement, gasoline, and the faintest whiff of a scorched cotton and ashened Grace blend kicked up around him, alerting him to the fact that he was clearly not where he remembered being before this moment. The congregation of crickets and grasshoppers in the thicket nearby fell silent as he sat up frantically, still in a blind panic.

****

A furious patdown of the front half of his torso revealed a complete lack of gaping stab wounds and blood, leading the man to hold his hands out in front of him and gaze at them with a fascination he wasn’t prone to having. Everything seemed to defy all logic; clearly Dad was up to something.

****

The radio transmissions from upstairs were uncomfortably silent, making the situation a bit more unnerving. None of his older brothers were answering, and neither were his younger brothers for that matter. He looked upwards and wondered if anyone was actually catching his feed for a moment before sighing and turning his little dusty mental radio off again.

****

Running a hand through his wavy gold-brown hair and popping his neck, he slowly rose from the ground, gauging whether or not he was good to go on the whole moving thing before making a trip towards the lighted areas in the distance. He was rewarded with the blood rushing from his head to his feet in record time.

****

"Augh...what the hell...?" Clutching his forehead, he winced and clenched his teeth.

****

The steadily increasing drumbeat in his skull was worrisome and disorienting; one good thing about humanity was that universal constant of sympathy for someone similar in appearance being in pain that was unbearable to them, and to a human-wearing celestial being who lacked any experience with such a thing as pain, any pain was too much. Finding similar-appearing humans was a good plan for now.

****

Once on his feet, the man looked around to get a better sense of the area. The wide open and moonless sky overhead was littered with constellations, the same he could recall the last time he...well, was alive, more or less. Maybe Dad just snapped him back out of an act of caring, compassion, and maybe a bit of pride in his youngest-oldest doing something good and worthwhile? He couldn’t justify the actions; he died a foolish braggart who accomplished little, in his mind.

****

But he was a far distance away from the hotel, that was for sure. This clearly wasn’t Indiana weather, or Indiana land.

****

The now-pounding headache beat him out of his ponderings and back to reality. The pain was akin to the aftermath of a week-long bender with Bacchus, something he usually strayed away from. A whole bottle of aspirin was sounding good right about now.

****

In the far off distance, he could spot a truck stop. Perfect.

****

Slowly marching forwards on foot, to err on the side of caution and the fear of overexertion, he made his way towards the truck stop.

********   
  
  
  
  
  
  


On the other end of the road, a pale gold Mercury Cougar adorned with Kansas plates turned the corner of the crossroads of 259 and 387, jarring the passenger of the vehicle from his reverie.

****

The brunette male brushed his long locks out of his face and looked at the map. His brother had taken a wrong turn past Midwest; he should point it out before they ended up in Gillette instead of Sheridan.

****

“Hey Dean, we’re supposed to be going straight up 387 to get to Idaho.” Dean closed his cell phone and began tucking it in his jacket pocket.

****

“Change of plans, Sam. First off, we’re almost out of gas and there’s a station up ahead. Second off, there’s a hotel in Edgerton you can get some shut eye in before we get to the next job. And third off, I just got a text from Frank-”

****

“You got a text from Frank?”

****

“Uh, yeah Sherlock.”

****

“Well what’d he say?”

****

“Nothing really, but he wants us to check something in that tiny town we just passed. Problem is, they ain’t got a hotel; not even so much as a B&B. So, we’re taking a right and heading to Edgerton for the night.” Dean slid his cell phone completely in his coat pocket and put two hands back on the wheel.

****

“What’s he want us to check out?”

****

"He didn't say much. He ran into someone else's IP address while doing some work for us, thinks some Leviathans might be up to something. It's probably nothing."

****

"Got ya."

****

"So we'll give it a look, find nothing, get some sleep, leave." Dean grinned, making Sam give a tiny smirk in response.

****

A quick gas-up and food/beer acquiring trip later, the Winchesters were back on the road.

****

Sam stared out the window, half-asleep.

****

**“Sammy!”**

****

Fucking Lucifer.

****

**“Sammy, c’mon! We were having a breakthrough! We really don’t have to have these hang-ups in our relationship...”** Lucifer, or rather the nightmarish toddler of a hallucination of Lucifer projected from Sam’s mind, pouted in the backseat. **“Oh! I know! How about a lovely song? You like songs!”**

****

Sam drove his thumb into his scarred palm just out of anguish, knowing nothing would help as Lucifer began clearing his throat.

****

Sam sighed, drawing Dean’s attention. “You okay Sammy?”

****

**“Ohhhhh...Sammy was low, just watching the show, over and over again...”** Lucifer placed a hand against his chest and outstretched the other between the seats as he began power ballading one of Sam’s least favorite Queen songs.

****

Sam pressed harder, making Lucifer flicker. It only made the hallucination clear his throat again and continue. “Yeah...”

****

Dean looked over to see him doing his ‘get Lucifer to shut up’ brand of acupuncture, and frowned slightly. It had been getting worse and worse, now that he wasn’t sleeping all that much. Knowing there was nothing he could do was eating at him, but he’d find something. He had to.

 

 **“Oh, his boss said to him, ‘Boy, you’d better begin to get those crazy notions right out of your head...’”** Lucifer grabbed the seat cushions and pulled himself up right between the seats, clenching his eyes tightly to maximize the intensity of the rest of the lines. **“Sammy whooooo do you think that you aaaaare...you should have been sweeping up at the Emerald Baaaaar~”**

****

Sam pressed as hard as he could, nearly tearing the skin, and finally Lucifer flickered out completely, allowing Sam the short amount of time needed for him to try and sleep.

****

He lay his head against the window, staring out into the night. In the ditch, a figure was moving steadily towards the car, and for a split second, Sam could have sworn the figure was...nah. He looked back to reaffirm his imagination, catching Dean’s attention.

****

“Sammy...?”

****

“I need some sleep, man. I just saw friggin’ Gabriel out the window, walking in the ditch.”

****

“Wow, first Lucifer, now Gabriel? Man, you are so screwed up. You can have the whole six pack in the back to sleep on if you need it. Hell, I’ll even let ya sleep in. Get some rest. Get all the rest, before you start seeing fucking Michael next.”

****

Sam gave a soft chuckle. “Thanks.”

********   
  
  
  
  
  
  


Making his way down the path to the gas stop, Gabriel sighed as the pain in his skull seemed to level off at a steady jackhammer thumping.

****

At least it isn’t getting any worse, he mused.

****

The rest of his body was feeling empty and drained from the walk; he was going to need more than aspirin, it seemed, as his vessel’s desire to consume and replenish was higher than usual. Unlike most of his brothers and sisters, Gabriel had a personally-made obligation for keeping all his vessel’s appetites satiated, no matter how exotic, nonsensical, or vast.

****

Vessels, particularly those of archangels, less particularly of seraphims, and even less particularly of the garden-variety field angels, had always been easily relatable to plants from the day Gabriel understood the concept of them. You water them, you feed them, you keep them safe and take care of them until they wilt, and then you just snap your fingers and charge them back to life with a little bit of Grace and they were as good as new.

****

This morning’s cravings were a heavy mix of painkillers and chocolate, and it looked like the gas stop had a good supply of both as he trudged through the aisles and collected various kinds of things that fit the profile before dropping them into the basket.

****

A quick snap of his fingers materialized his little wallet with a few copies of all the different types of American currency in it into his right coat pocket. He doubted the Franklins would do him any good in a run-of-the-mill gas station, but hell, they were there.

****

He dropped the basket on the counter, alerting the cashier. He began piling box after canister after little metal pocket-sized container of aspirin, much to the unnerving of the cashier.

****

“Can you help me?” Gabriel asked, wincing slightly.

****

“You ain’t gonna buy all those, are ya?”

****

Gabriel eyed the small stack of candy bars, then looked back at the cashier. “Oh, I’m buying all of those. I just need some help with these.” He looked down at the pills.

****

“Whatcha need?”

****

“I have a pounding headache, all around my head, like the rim of a crown.”

****

“A migraine? My wife gets those. You’re gonna want this one.” The cashier rang up the bottle of Excedrin, then began to ring out the rest of the basket. “Just leave the rest there; I’ll put them back for ya.”

****

“Thank you.” Gabriel gave a soft smile and pulled out his wallet. “How much is that?”

****

“You ain’t gonna get a bottle of something to drink with the pills?”

****

Gabriel looked at him, realizing he was serious. His vessel was a little dehydrated, but his thirst hadn’t been enough to garner the archangel’s attention. This, however, seemed like a special occasion.

****

“I’ll grab a bottle of water.”

****

Gabriel looked over the bottle of Excedrin’s label as he left the store, cringing at the list of nonsense on it. You could have an allergic reaction which will kill you, don’t drink 3 or more drinks while on it, don’t take more than two pills or your liver will explode or whatever, don’t take this if...if a migraine pill bottle is warning you to not take the damn contents under a laundry list of reasons that included being old, having no less than seven types of ailments, taking other drugs, and quote ‘having the worst headache of your life’, then why in the hell was this even on the open market?

****

This was complete snake oil, and Dad had created plenty of plants and herbs that would do his vessel a hell of a lot more good and a hell of a lot less bad at the same time. Unfortunately, they weren’t anywhere in Wyoming, and the pills were right in his hand.

****

He knew was going to live to regret this decision.

********   
  
  
  
  
  
  


"One bedroom." Dean grinned at the lady at the hotel desk. She eyed Sam, then looked back at Dean, then darted to Sam. "Two beds."

****

"Oh, okay." She looked down at the ten year-old computer. "Rather nice of ya to stick around with your friend there while he, uh...comes down."

****

Dean looked at the zoning-out Sam and gave a look of mild concern; he did look either stoned or sleep-deprived.

****

"Nah, he just needs some sleep, Miss...” Dean eyed her nametag quickly. “O’Hara.”

****

“I see. I’ll bring you to your room.” She grinned widely while getting a pair of keys off the wall and gestured down the left hallway.

****

Sam and Dean examined the motel’s exterior, admiring how clean and well-maintained it was.

****

“I’m surprised it’s so cheap...” Dean muttered to Sam, who stayed attentive long enough to catch what Dean was saying. “I can’t wait to see the maids.”

****

“Alright boys, here’s your room.” She stopped in front of the room, handing Dean both sets of keys as he got close enough. “Need anything else?”

****

“When does the maid come around?”

****

“We have an on-call maid who is available 24/7. I can set up a time for her to come in every day if you wish.” She gave a soft grin.

****

“‘Bout 3 pm sounds good.”

****

“Alrighty. Anything else?”

****

“Just some peace and quiet for my brother.”

****

“You got it!” She winked, then turned to leave.

****

Dean quickly unlocked the door and half-shoved Sam in towards the closer of the two beds to the door. Sam stumbled, recovered, and dropped himself onto the bed in a heap, falling asleep almost immediately after the bed stopped quivering from impact.

****

“Sleep well, Sammy.” Dean grabbed Sam’s bags and set them at the foot of Sam’s bed.

********   
  
  
  
  
  
  


Gabriel sighed as he made it to the other side of the crossroads and approached a truck service center sitting outside a large, organized congregation of trailers, with random little houses here and there. He passed a sign declaring that the congregation was, in fact, the town of Midwest, Wyoming. He was only half-surprised that he had no idea it existed.

****

The Excedrin seemed to be working well, but it was making him slightly sluggish, his vessel softly pleading to lie down. He couldn’t comply this time, no matter how much he agreed that at least relaxing to let the drug pass through his vessel’s system was a good idea. Not when he was quite literally in the middle of nowhere.

****

A short ways down the street, he spotted a sign for a school, its bulletin board littered with events. It’s only, what? 4:30 in the morning? So it’s too early for anyone but maintenance to be around, Gabriel mused, and yet there was a junker of a car sitting outside, an occupant sipping from a travel mug. Finally, some sort of luck. Gabriel grinned, approaching the car slowly and trying to not look like a mugger.

****

The woman at the wheel noticed him, and a look of curiosity and wonder filled her doe-eyed visage. She lowered her travel mug into her cup holder as Gabriel got close and gave a friendly smile.

****

“Hey, pardon me miss,” He called out as she rolled down her window. She seemed rather speechless at his presence as he approached her window. She brushed her wavy bottle blonde hair out of her eyes as he gave her a warm smile. “I’m sorry, don’t mean to scare ya or anything.”

****

“I don’t believe it...” Her eyebrows raised in surprise.

****

Her voice hit his ears and hit some paved-over set of memories, cracking the mental blacktop. Her name, it was Linda Faulkner. Man, had it been...five? Six years? Playing dumb might be beneficial.

****

“...Believe what?”

****

She smirked, shaking her head back and forth. “Oh god, you’re the last person I was expecting to just stumble into town.”

****

“Have we met before? Your face...it seems awfully familiar.”

****

“Casper, summer of ‘04. Wonder Bar. The Natrona County Social. You downed about five beers and got hustled by my clingy ex out of a good chunk of change before you hustled him out of his wallet.” She smirked. “You paid for my dinner and drinks, and we hit your hotel room. Ringing any bells yet?”

****

Gabriel widened his eyes in mock surprise; the night, and the next few months afterwards, had been vivid in his mind since she named the bar. “Oh my God, Linda...”

****

The woman smiled, then began to get out of the car.

****

“Oh wow! Has it been that long?” He backed out, grabbing the top of the door as she opened it. “Linda Faulkner, my oh my. Still a stunner.” He smirked.

****

“Looking great yourself, Andrew. You don’t look a day older than when you left.”

****

Oh, right, one of his aliases. Andrew Fiamma was the one he had whipped up at the door of the bar. There was plenty of booze and women at the place that night, and a lot of assholes to drop semi-hazardous tricks on. The overly grabby and unresponsive rich ex-boyfriend was his own personal handiwork, a rare moment of him simply wrecking a douchebag’s life directly by faking intoxication long enough for the guy to try and hustle him out of all he had, only for the situation to reverse with a simple flick of Gabriel’s wrist...

****

“It’s all the drinking and partying, don’t let anyone tell you different.” He smirked, giving her a stealthy one-over. She stood a half a head shorter than him, and she had tacked a healthy set of feminine curves to her once-svelte frame, but she was still damn good looking.

****

"Still the joker. So, wow." Was she blushing? Her tanned skin made it hard to tell. "You're alive. Could have fooled me. No calls, no letters..."

****

"Sorry; I told ya I was a wandering soul." She rolled her eyes; the truth was far more than he could afford to cop to. "Things came up, and my phone disappeared. I woulda called and you know it."

****

"Yeah, yeah, yeah..."

****

"So you moved outta Casper, I see."

****

"Yeah, after the divorce-"

_**** _

_Whoa, whoa, wait a minute._ Gabriel raised a suspicious eyebrow.

****

"You married?"

****

"We all make our mistakes."

****

"Oh. Uh...sorry to hear."

****

Linda smirked. "Well, don't be. I made out fine." She looked down the street, paying attention to the small crowd jogging in unison. Her warm smile lit her face up, and Gabriel decided to look over at the group himself.

****

Four high school seniors, all female, the short, black-haired member of the crew leading the team down the path. Her eyes went from Linda, then to Gabriel, then back to Linda, a less than pleased look slowly filling her features.

****

"They're earlier than I thought they'd be," Linda looked back to Gabriel. "they're getting better with her making them play catch-up."

****

"Oh?"

****

He looked back at the group; the black haired girl in front was definitely giving him the stink-eye now. He arched an eyebrow at her, then looked back at Linda.

****

"Amber's getting better with her pacing. Even the coach thinks she's getting better."

****

The black haired girl broke away from the pack and sprinted towards Linda.

****

"Hey honey! Good pacing, but don't show off!"

****

"Yeah, got it Linda..." She huffed. She raspberried the rest of the group as she slowed down and approached the car.

****

"She your niece?"

****

"My daughter."

****

Gabriel went pale. She didn’t have a daughter, and definitely not that old. He would have already met the kid. He gleaned a little info on the girl; neither Amber nor Faulkner were her actual names. Her actual name sent a shiver up his spine; it was familiar. He...shouldn’t say anything. One thing at a time.

****

“Daughter? She’s a bit too old to be your daughter; sister, maybe.” Gabriel gave a little eyebrow raise, trying to flirt. Amber rolled her eyes and got in the front passenger seat. Linda looked over at the girl and sighed, then looked back to Gabriel. “I’m sorry Andrew, she’s...she’s not too fond of male friends of mine.”

****

“I understand. Divorcee mom of a lovely young woman starts having guys line up at her door...I’ve seen the movie.”

****

“Heh, more or less the last year and a half.” She vocalized a long trailing sigh, crossing her arms. “Well, I’d like to keep chatting, but we gotta get back home, get Amber ready for school, get me ready for work...you know."

****

"I get ya. No problem. I gotta get my bearings anyways.”

****

“Bearings?” She dropped her arms out of their crossed position, her warm and bright eyes filling with concern. “What happened?”

****

Oh great. She’s not letting this slide...

****

Gabriel nervously scratched the back of his head. He needed a good alibi. The longer he said nothing, the wider Linda’s eyes got. He knew she’d only keep prying unless he gave her some sort of excuse, but coming up with one on the fly that she’d buy for appearing out of the blue didn’t seem to sit well with even him. Well, a half-truth was going to have to do.

****

“Long story short, I ran into some family issues and woke up in a ditch.”

****

"Dear god!"

****

He remembered having told Linda a vague tale once about how he was trying to avoid his family for personal reasons during the few months they had had a...thing that resembled some sort of cohesive relationship. He was only half-committed the whole time, really. Not that he hadn’t considered being fully committed, simply...there was always a chance for Hunters to show up out of the blue once the body count got high enough.

****

He needed a convenient cover to mask his Trickster business, and she had fallen head over heels and was a bit clingy after the bar incident...it was a long enough time ago to not matter much to him. It was a good enough match until a pair of idiots with a pointy branch covered in blood chased one of his shadow doubles three blocks down an alleyway. It had been a good run of time without any problems anyways.

****

“Andrew? Hello?”

****

“Oh! Sorry. Just...thinking.”

****

His head was pounding again; not quite as intensely, but thinking about too much at once seemed to be the trigger.

****

“You got a place to go?"

****

"No, not really. Anyone I can call is asleep; I was just out trying to find out where in the hell I was."

****

Linda looked between Gabriel and the ornery girl in the front seat. She sighed, then looked back at Gabriel.

****

"Get in. I got some time before my shift, and I can drive you into town so you can get yourself straightened out."

****

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna be a-”

****

“Don’t. Just get in the car before I change my mind.”

****

Gabriel sighed. “Fine. But only because you demanded so nicely.”

****

Linda grinned and they both got into the car. “Amber, Andrew. Andrew, Amber.”

****

Gabriel held out his hand for a shake. “You’re a damn good runner.”

****

Amber merely sighed and looked out the windshield window.

****

"Amber, don't be rude." Linda furrowed her brows and scowled, but Amber didn’t seem fazed.

****

This girl's gonna be a tough nut to crack, Gabriel mused as Linda started up the engine and made her way towards her home.


	2. Unearth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having run into a bout of luck, Gabriel tries to recuperate while figuring out exactly why he's in the middle of nowhere, two years after his supposed demise. Meanwhile, Sam and Dean begin their investigation and turn up a few leads.

A five minute drive to the Faulkner's white-paneled mobile home had done little to diffuse the tension in the air between Gabriel and the ball of teenaged angst in the front passenger seat. He quietly removed the small bag of candy bars from the inside of his coat; comforting constants like sweetened milk chocolate was just what the archangel needed to calm his slowly growing list of anxieties.

****

He spotted the Mr. Goodbar at the top of the pile and decided to try and make a peace offering.

****

"Ugh, peanuts," He held the bar out between the seats. "Either of you ladies want a pick-me-up?"

****

"It's too early for candy for me," Linda replied. "but maybe later."

****

Amber looked at the bar, then at Gabriel. "You?"

****

"I don't take candy from strange men in the back of my mom's car."

****

Gabriel slowly retracted the candy bar. "Point taken." He then proceeded to gingerly unwrap it, hoping Amber would reconsider. By the time the top bars of the chocolatey treat were staring at him, she still hadn't responded, leaving Gabriel to resign to munching on it himself.

****

He had already gnawed through half of it by the time they had arrived at the house. Amber half leapt out of the car and marched inside, leaving Gabriel and Linda outside alone for the moment. Linda sighed as she turned the car off.

****

"I'm sorry about her." Linda's tone sounded greatly defeated.

****

"It's alright. Hey, I get her rea-"

****

"No, it's not alright.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and huffed. “She's been like this ever since I handed Tyler the divorce papers a year and a half ago. Our marriage didn't work out and now she thinks I'm not allowed to have any men around ever again."

****

"You think she might be less angry about it if I tried killing her with kindness?"

****

She waved her hands as if to shoo him to the task. "Knock yourself out. Just don't say I didn't warn you."

****

The two of them got out of the car and walked inside.

****

It was a quaint setup, for a mobile home. A satellite dish atop the roof appeared to have cables leading inside that were hooked up to the wireless modem at the study desk and the cable line hooked to the television set. The small yet eclectically decorated kitchen/dining room had a small wooden table set for two and what looked like a white-painted gas-burning stovetop. The black couch with all the squishy pillows was a convertible bed unit, by the looks of its construction. The rest of the place was either down the hallway or behind the doors, out of Gabriel's immediate view.

****

Amber slammed the door of the room adjacent to the kitchen shut; Gabriel noted that the room was hers for future knowledge. Linda sighed deeply.

****

"Have a seat. You need a drink?" She meandered into the kitchen as Gabriel sat down on the couch. Having drained his bottle of water and devoured most of the candy bars, he decided it was best to take the offer.

****

"Glass of water's fine, if you don't mind."

****

Linda looked over and smiled. "I don’t."

****

As she grabbed a glass, she looked over at Gabriel with a curious twist in her eyebrows. "So...mind if I ask what kind of family business is going on?"

****

"Well, nothing good."

****

"Figured."

****

"My friends were having a big drinking party down in Muncie and..."

****

"Muncie? You're a long ways out for that."

****

"I know, right? Anyways, my brother crashed the party and I...more or less...played the shitfaced matador. We had a little spat and...well, I woke up in a ditch, all the way out here."

****

"Christ almighty." She sat the glass down on the counter next to the couch and reached for her keys. “We should get you looked at.”

****

“No, no, I’m fine. I just have a pounding headache, and my back’s starting to feel a bit stiff, now that I think about it. I hope I’m just overthinking it...”

****

“You sure you don’t wanna go? It’s a long trip.”

****

“Nah, I’m just gonna take these.” He took the Excedrin out of his pocket and shook another pair of pills out to counter the steady pounding still lingering in his skull and continuing to dilute through the rest of his vessel. As he went to knock back the pills, Linda grabbed his hand. “No, that’s for migraines. You want something better.”

****

“Better?”

****

She took the Excedrins and their pill bottle from Gabriel and returned with a small white pill. “Now you and I both know those aren’t gonna help ya. You lucky dog and your pain killer tolerance.” She reached out slightly to hand him the pill, but pulled it back when he began reaching for it. “First off, you never got this from me, got it?”

****

_That’s a scary statement. Okay...just go with it. It’s not like it’ll kill you._

****

“I don’t know who it’s from.” Gabriel winked.

****

“Second off, this comes with conditions.” She furrowed her brows and narrowed her eyelids; her patented serious face. Gabriel knew was was coming next.

****

“Hit me.”

****

She furrowed her brows and narrowed her lips slightly; her serious demand face. This was not going to end well. “You take this, and if you don’t get better by the time you come off the stupor, I’m driving your ass to Casper Medical.”

****

“Fair deal; I’ll sweeten it.” He grinned mischievously.

****

“You’ve always done that.”

****

“I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t.” Gabriel gave a little eyebrow waggle.

****

“Don’t you go trying to sweet talk me with Amber around. She’ll rip you a new one.”

****

“Yeah, yeah, angsty teen, I get it.” He rolled his eyes. “Anyways, if this helps at all, I’ll take you girls to dinner as a thank you gift for putting up with me once I get back on my feet. Honestly, I just need a day to call in some favors, if that. I can hit a motel or something and-”

****

“Deal. Now get up and let me fold this out into a bed first.” She sat the Vicodin down next to his water glass and began adjusting the couch once Gabriel stood up.

****

“Need some help?”

****

“Nope, I got it.” She converted the couch into its futon mode in a snap, putting all the pillows up on one side. “Sit, take the pill, and prepare to conk out.”

****

Gabriel sat down and popped the Vicodin, washing it back with the whole glass of water. A lot less chemically-mixed than the water on the east coast, thankfully. He went to lie back when Linda grabbed his pant leg.

****

“Shoes off my couch.”

****

He kicked his shoes off and set them by the edge of the bed. As he leaned back up, the chemicals had already begun swimming through his vessel’s bloodstream and had already begun numbing and shutting down his body.

****

“Whoa, that was quick.” He took a deep breath and lied back. _Man, that tiny pill has a punch. I hope she doesn’t take these things all the time..._

****

“Get a nap in. I don’t leave for a few hours.”

****

Within a few minutes of lying down, Gabriel’s vessel began resisting the archangel’s will to move. Motor functions were fairly shot, cognitive processes were sluggish at best, and consciousness was a challenge. At least the bed configuration was really comfortable; the throw pillows were surprisingly firm and contouring, and the mere act of lying on his back had put him in a rather docile state.

****

“I think I might...sleep is that alright...?”

****

Linda just smirked, and Gabriel sighed, deciding to merely succumb to the unconscious state his vessel begged him to slump into.

****

Footsteps near the couch shook him from his unconscious state, and he looked around for a moment, gaining his bearings.

****

Amber looked at him; she had changed out of her track gear and into a knee-length skirt, tee-shirt, and sneakers, and she was now carrying a backpack. Clearly her school outfit of choice.

****

"Linda, your boyfriend's up!" Gabriel raised an eyebrow at her, and she mimicked the expression back at him.

****

"What time is it?" Gabriel sat up, waiting for Amber’s response.

****

"7:30. I'm out." Amber adjusted her hairband, making her shoulder-length umber brown hair swivel. "Nice knowing ya." With a few steps, she was out the door.

****

Linda poked her head around the corner of the ‘doorway’ between the kitchen and the living room. “So, how are ya feeling?”

****

Gabriel assessed the condition of his vessel; it truly did emit far fewer pain signals than before he passed out. His back still felt stiff, but something beyond that felt...off. Giving a quick stretch of his wings immediately gave him the answer; he was terribly lacking in the mid-wing department. A feeling of inadequacy filled him, but he at least understood his strange lack of nigh-immortality. Didn’t need to advertise the fact, though. Hell, that was perfect. Just act natural.

****

“I think the Vicodin nap did the trick.” He gave a shaky yet reassuring grin.

****

“Good. You need a shower? I’ll toss your clothes in the wash. You smell like a barbecue.”

****

Gabriel gave her a confused look, then gave his green coat collar an investigative sniff. His burnt Grace’s scent was still lingering in the shirt; humans obviously perceived it as some sort of roasting meat. Wasn’t like they were off by much, but they missed the celestial subtleties that made the smell uniquely nauseating to the archangel. It was the smell of dead brothers and sisters strewn across Heaven and Earth, their exploded wings etched into floorboards, sidewalks, fields, man-made walls, anything they fell against in death.

****

“Hey Andy!” Gabriel looked up at her. “You wanna wash up or not?”

****

“Yeah, please.” He quickly stripped the coat off and tossed it to her. “Where’s the towels?”

****

The act of showering was not something done all that often, but he knew his way around the house component. Girls always had such fancy-smelling gels and creams and all this other crap he had no real use for, but hell, he was a showman. Time to put on a show; well, one that didn’t involve a second party and gratuitous amounts of suds all over said second party.

****

He found a small and neatly folded pile of men’s clothes on the top of the sink as he toweled off and looked around. Remainers of the last guy, clearly. A blue collared shirt and blue jeans, and some socks and boxers.

****

Augh, another man’s undergarments. That was such a taboo thing. A quick spatial shift tossed the offending garments back to the shelf and replaced them with something a little more his style, from his personal collection of outfits.

****

Thank goodness his personal stash hadn’t fallen off the face of the earth with him. Maybe it just hadn’t been long enough.

****

He quickly got dressed and poked his head out; the dryer was still running, and he spotted Linda in a powder blue waitress uniform. She looked back at him and smiled.

****

“You ready?”

****

“You betcha.”

****

The alarm in the hotel room went off, waking Dean from his slumber. 8:30 am, and Sam was already up and at his laptop and in his FBI agent suit.

****

“Sammy, what’re you doing up?”

****

“Reading up on Midwest. That’s the town we’re going to, yeah?”

****

“Yeah...” Dean rubbed his eyes. “You should be in bed.”

****

“Woke up an hour ago.”

****

“Go back to bed, I got this.”

****

“I’m hungry and you only picked up two bags of jerky.”

****

Dean growled. “You ate both of them?”

****

“...I was hungry.”

****

Dean sighed and flopped his head back into the pillow. “Wanna head to the diner across the street?”

****

“I was going to suggest that.” Sam coyly grinned.

****

“...You ate them on purpose, didn’t you?”

****

Sam didn’t answer, prompting Dean to groan and roll out of bed.

****

Twenty-five minutes later, and Agents Dean and Sam Smith made their way out of their shared hotel room, and to the rather plain 50’s-style diner across the street. They looked around and picked an empty table for two, and the waitress was by their table in mere moments.

****

“Morning boys, name’s Linda. I’ll be your server today. Can I get ya some coffee?”

****

“I’ll have a coffee with some cream please.” Sam smiled.

****

“And you?”

****

“I’m good.”

****

“I’ll be right back then.” Linda set down a pair of napkin-wrapped cutlery sets down for them, then walked away. Dean leaned in, holding his tongue about the coffee in lieu of getting info from Sam.

****

“So, what’s up with the town?”

****

“Well, a few people have their own satellite hookups, and the school and police station have similar hook-ups. Everyone else’s just got rabbit ears, from the looks of it.”

****

“So we start hittin’ up the people first?”

****

“I’d say the police station, to see if there’s been any known hackers in the area. If not, then we can just go from there.”

****

Linda returned with a coffee for Sam, along with a cup of cream. “You gentlemen ready to order?”

****

“Can we have a minute?”

****

“Sure.” Linda smiled and carried her tray over to a table in the corner.

****

Gabriel sat, fumbling through the paper in wonder.

****

_This really can’t be right..._

****

“Hey Linda, I think the date’s off.” He flipped to the cover and showed her the date. Linda leaned in and examined it.

****

“Nope, it’s Friday alright.”

****

“I meant the year.”

****

“Nope, it’s 2012.” She looked at Gabriel. “How hard did your brother hit you?”

****

“Hard enough...”

****

_It’s really been two years? Two whole years? What, did I get lost in the returned shipping department?_

****

“Here, maybe this’ll jog your memory.” She sat a plate of pancakes in front of him, along with a slice of cherry pie and a small jar of maple syrup.

****

“Pie? You spoil me.”

****

She pulled the plate towards her, furrowing her eyebrows. Not this again. “You get it if you explain yourself.”

****

“Explain...why I left?”

****

“You betcha.”

****

_Alright, here goes nothing..._

****

“Real estate’s a hell of a job, especially when you swap big time properties like I do. Stuff happens, the banks buy properties off of me, and what happens to them after that isn’t my fault. You can’t explain that to everybody, especially not the guys some tycoon hires to come after me.”

****

“Oh god...” The concern on her face as she sat down to continue listening to him stung a bit. If telling her what actually happened wasn’t likely to just devolve into an existential crisis, he was certain the actual truth would have crushed her.

****

“I’m alright. But I lost my phone in the mad dash to North Dakota. I had your number in it, and once I got your number in my phone...poof.” He gave a little gesture against his head signifying a mini explosion of sorts.

****

_Hope she buys it; it’s gonna be hard to explain ‘I got chased by monster hunters who figured me out and I had to bail before they staked the right me’._

****

Linda narrowed her eyes at him, making him nervous. “Really?”

****

“I wish it weren’t true. I really regretted leaving you alone like that. But I didn’t want them coming for ya; you didn’t sell them the place, ya know?”

****

“Well, that’s rather sweet of you.” She appeared to have bought it with a soft blushing.

****

“I know, don’t remind me.”

****

“I was worried sick.”

****

“I apologize. I’m truly sorry.”

****

“You had better be. You owe me more than just a fancy dinner.” She poked his arm softly, giving  a look of playful malice. She wasn’t going to hurt him...too much. He hoped. He was having trouble gauging what pain was critical to pay attention to with his lowered tolerances.

****

She was staring at him; he was obviously lost in thought again. “I’m sorry. I know, I know...I’ll make it up to you.”

****

Across the room, Dean looked around. “Man, our waitress’d better stop gabbing it up with that guy over there. I want some bacon and eggs, dammit.”

****

“Yeah, me too...” Sam looked up from his laptop, gazing over to where she was.

****

"I got a table full of suits to get to, Andy. We can talk later." Linda smirked and ran her hand down his arm as she got up and walked over to Sam and Dean.

****

After a few moments, Gabriel's curiosity got the better of him, and he turned around to see whom Linda was referring to. He nearly didn't recognize Sam with all the extra maneage, but Dean was reliable in never changing.

****

He gasped as his eyes widened, turning himself right back around.

_**** _

_Augh, of all the diners, in all the middle of nowhere towns on Planet Earth, those two had to show up at mine. Man, what the hell is going on? I wake up from a two year dirt nap, and the Winchesters are half a room away from me in their 'serious business' suits? ...I hate the idea of shadowing them all half-cocked, power-wise, but maybe I should stay as hip to the pulse of the nearest hunt as possible. Hell, maybe I might get a hint as to why I’m here._

****

Briefly stopping time and replacing himself with a shadow double, he cloaked himself and stood up and walked over to the table, listening in as Linda walked away.

****

"Stop drinking the coffee, Sam. You're tired."

****

"I'm fine."

****

"Has Luci been singing show tunes again?"

****

_...the hell? Lucifer isn't using him for a meat puppet...he would've smote me about ten times over by now._

****

"Not today. Not yet, at least. He woke me up with, of all songs, 'Start Me Up'."

****

"Don't worry, Sammy."

****

"I'm fine. Focusing on this case Frank pointed us at really helps me deal.”

****

Gabriel leaned between the two of them, looking at them with a concerned wonder.

_**** _

_You two didn’t say yes, did you? I told you two idiots that you didn’t have to! I told you how to stick Luci back in his timeout corner in Hell!_

****

Looking outside to try and calm himself, Gabriel took in the lack of destruction and sighed.

_...Well, whatever you two did, it worked._

****

Linda arrived with a plate of bacon, eggs, and a slice of cherry pie for Dean, then refilled Sam’s coffee cup.

****

As she walked off, Dean picked up a slice of bacon and held it at eye level to Sam. “Here.”

****

Sam gave a displeased look at the salty offering.

****

“Sam...” Dean put on his ‘older brother’ look, which was only a slight variation of the look a mother gave her stubborn toddler. “You can’t live on beer and jerky, Sam. Have some bacon.”

****

Sam pouted, then took the bacon slice, munching on it with disdain while Dean smiled softly. “Much better.”

_**** _

_Still the same guys, but with more feeling. Completely unexpected, but refreshing._

****

Dean proceeded to scarf down the rest of the breakfast plate without another word.

****

_Guess I should do the same, then._

****

Quickly swapping places with his shadow double and dispelling it, he dug into the half a breakfast that was left.

****

Linda returned to Sam and Dean’s table. “Hey guys. How’s everything?”

****

“This cherry pie’s damn good, Linda.” Dean grinned. “this should be illegal, it’s so good.”

****

“Best pie in Natrona County, five years in a row.”

****

“Why haven’t I heard of this?” Dean’s eyes swiftly darted at Sam, as if to blame him for the lack of knowledge.

****

“...What? I didn’t know either.” Sam went back to his paper reading and coffee drinking.

****

Linda grinned and walked away to help a few more customers before arriving back at Gabriel’s table.  He had plowed through the pancakes, and was halfway through the pie as she sat down.

****

“Hungry, huh?”

****

“Long, dehydrating walks and heavy narcotics leave me with an appetite when I come to.” Gabriel grinned before shoving another piece of pie in his mouth.

****

“Well, you got plans?”

****

He pulled his phone out of his shirt’s left breast pocket, quickly chewing down and swallowing the pie chunk. “I got in touch with some local contacts, and I’m gonna meet them at the courthouse. They’re clean, and I can trust them. My bro don’t know them. So!” He sunk the fork into the last large hunk of the pie, lifting it toward his mouth. “I’m gonna finish this and go.”

****

The corners of Linda’s mouth curled upwards in a small smile as he scarfed down the last piece, leaving the plate devoid of all but crumbs. He set the fork down on the plate and stood up.

****

"Okay, wish me luck."  Gabriel smirked as he walked towards the door, turning around nearly halfway while walking. "Remember, rain or shine, I'm taking you and Amber out tonight."

****

Linda blushed slightly as she collected the plates. "Get going."

****

"Six o'clock on the dot!" He pointed at her and winked, then reached the door and opened it with a soft shove of his shoulder.

****

As Gabriel left, Sam looked up from his paper and spotted the archangel from behind. His eyes went wide as he waved his hand in front of Dean's face to get his attention.

****

"Dean, Dean!" He whispered loud enough to get Dean to look up from his pie.

****

"Dude, what?"

****

"Gabriel." He pointed out the door, and Dean followed his cue. Raising his eyebrow in confusion as Gabriel walked farther away from the diner, he looked back at Sam.

****

"Damn good look-alike."

****

"I told you I wasn't seeing things!"

****

"Sam, it's not him; friggin guy's been dead for two years. Besides, you remember what he said."

****

"Something's going on, man..." Sam shook his head.  “But we should get going. I’ll look into it later."

****

Dean pulled out his wallet as Sam finished off his coffee.

****

A quick drive to Midwest and they were at the sheriff's office, waiting for the lone deputy to hand search written citations.

****

Sam had taken to observing the scant insides of the square, red-bricked building. In the back were a few jail cells, none occupied. In the back in the lone drunk tank there was a paunchy middle-aged man slumped over in unconsciousness. There was only a main desk that Dean was standing at now, the deputy’s desk, a single interrogation room, a secured back room full of evidence and backlogs, and a small row of chairs for visitors. He was wondering where they kept the guns and handcuffs.

****

"You're looking for computer crimes...out here..." The sheriff adjusted his belt buckle.

****

"We just go to the towns we're told to go to," Dean gave his serious look. “you got anything for us?”

****

“Nothing yet,” the deputy assured.

****

“So what did you say this hacker did, again?”

****

“Hacked a government database. Traced the IP here. We just wanna ask some questions.” Dean smirked, leaning against the top of the desk.

****

**“Hey Sammy, why don’t you look around? See if you can be a little more to the investigation than a giant sickly ornament?”** Lucifer grinned and began leaning on Sam’s shoulder.

****

“Your partner alright there?” The sheriff looked over to Sam.

****

“He’ll be fine. Too many all-nighters in a row; lots of paperwork.” Dean elbowed Sam. “He needs to stop worrying about The Man being on his back all the time, right Sam?” Dean winked at Sam, hoping the insomniatic little brother of his got the reference.

****

Sam looked at Dean, quickly processing the conversation he was half listening to. “Uh, yeah.”

****

“And lay off the coffee.” Dean grinned at Sam, then leaned in towards the sheriff. “I’m gonna slip decaf in the pot tonight; he won’t know the difference.”

****

The deputy perked up. “I, uh, found a case of ‘phone phreaking’ in the 70’s, but other than that, I got nothing.”

****

“Phone phreaking?” Dean looked between the deputy, the sheriff, and Sam; the latter of which perked up at Dean’s query. “It’s when you hack the telephone lines using a frequency signal to screw with the programming in the lines. People used it a lot to call long distance for free before the internet came around.”

****

“Looks like the coffee kicked in. This perp still live here?”

****

“Casey Wilder? Yeah, he’s been keeping his nose clean ever since; his grandson Robert’s the head of the chess team and the computer club at the school, gonna be headin’ off to college outta state...some technical college.”

****

“So I take it they’re a state of the art sort of family?” Sam perked up and got closer to Dean and the sheriff.

****

“Yup. Got a dish from the cable company few years back; first ones, too. Couple of people from Casper came in and brought their hook-ups too.”

****

“Do you mind if we get the names and addresses of anyone with a home-based internet connection?” Dean gave a coy smile.

****

The sheriff and the deputy looked at each other, then back to Dean. “We don’t keep those kinds of records round here, Agent Smith.”

****

Dean gave a disappointed look. “I get ya; free country and all.”

****

“But we won’t stop ya from lookin’.”

****

“Thanks for the help.” Dean gave a fake smile and slapped the top of the desk.

****

“Can I get the Wilder’s address, at least?” Sam queried, pulling out his notepad and pen.

****

“Seems pretty low-tech for FBI.” The deputy jokingly grinned.

****

“I write out of habit,” Sam replied, giving a soft smile back. “helps me think.”

****

Their adventure at the local jailing hole over, the two hopped back into the car and Sam googled the address.

****

"Do you have to do that, man? There's only, like, five roads in this town."

****

"Yup, there it is. He's got a dish on his house. I'm gonna check out what other houses have dishes on them, you get to the kid's house; it's three blocks down, two blocks left."

****

"I know which street is which, Sam. Not many to pick from."

****

It was only a few minutes as they arrived at the Wilder home; it seemed empty and quiet for a well-maintained, small, two-story cottage in the surrounding pile of dusty mobile homes, and the pickup truck was still in the front yard. Erring on the side of caution, they holstered pistols and walked up to the door.

****

They calmly knocked on the door. "Hello?" Dean got no response.

****

**"Oh man, that's never a good thing, is it Sammy? Maybe you should check around..."**

****

Sam jammed his thumb into his scar, making Lucifer flicker as he rounded the trailer and peeked into the kitchen window. A splatter of red caught his attention.

****

**"Oh ho ho...somebody had a little accident..."**

****

Sam scampered back over to Dean.

****

"Sup?"

****

"Blood in the kitchen. We should go in."

****

Dean set to deftly picking the lock, getting them inside relatively fast.

 

**"Don't know why you're rushing, Sammy...they're dead."**

****

Sam clenched his teeth as he and Dean pulled their pistols out and scoped the main hall. Sam gestured towards the kitchen and the two cautiously tiptoed over.

****

The blood painted and caked on the walls and countertops was clearly from more than one human, by the angles of the splashes and drips across the room. Small pieces of fabric of different types of flannel shirts and jeans added to the conclusion of a slaughter scene. However, there was a distinct lack of actual bodies.

****

**“Looks like the bigmouths beat you to the punch.”**

****

Sam sighed. “Well there goes our only lead...”

****

“Think we should check his computer?”

****

Dean sighed. “It’s probably in his room. Let’s look around.”

****

**“Yes, let’s split up in a house we know Leviathans have at least been in, without any borax on hand. Brilliant idea...”**

****

Sam sighed deeply and began looking around on the bottom floor, while Dean scoured the second floor. Nearly two hours later, after digging up every square inch of furniture and cabinet space, there was absolutely no sign of any computer in the house. Not a desktop, a laptop, a tablet, not even a smartphone or even a regular cell phone. The house had been ransacked of all the computer-like objects, down to even the lesser devices like zip drives and anything that held microSD cards.

****

“Oh man, this kid hit something big,” Sam commented as Dean exasperatedly walked down the staircase. “this house is completely empty of anything he could have used to store digital data on.”

****

“No wonder they ate the whole family. Guess we gotta look around for more clues. Let’s hit the school, see if he was in the library doing research.”

****

“Good idea.”

****

Another quick car ride later, and they arrived at Midwest School. A school for all grades, it was still in session, the kindergarten kids were at recess in the playground as Dean pulled up in front. Another red-bricked, square-shaped building, it was likely the largest single building in the whole town.

****

A short walk to the front desk and a badge flashing later, Dean and Sam were on their way to the library. The room itself held a full stock of children’s and young adult books, shelves lining every square inch of wall and half of the floor space, save for the small computer corner with only a pair of computers in it and wooden benched tables for students to read and study on.

****

“Can I help you?” The librarian caught their attention, and Dean quickly flashed his badge, Sam following suit.

****

“Hi there. Those computers have an internet connection?”

****

The middle-aged woman went pale, looking at them.

****

**“Granny’s gonna faint when you tell’er the kids are doing bad things at school...”**

****

Sam looked around, trying to look vigilant.

****

“What’s going on?”

****

“We’re just covering all the bases in our investigation, ma’am.”

****

“We do have internet service, yes.”

****

“Do you keep a logbook of students who use these things?”

****

The librarian began shuffling things on the desk, holding up a notebook. “Here.”

****

“Thank you.” Dean smiled. “How far back does this log go?”

****

“I change it once a month.”

****

“Thank you.” Dean took the notebook, grabbed Sam, and tugged him towards the nearby computer corner’s desks.

****

Sam began note-taking the times Robert had been online, and Dean raised an eyebrow. “Hey Sam, you notice this?” He pointed to other, repeating names on the list. Dean got up and approached the librarian’s desk again.

****

“Pardon me, but uh, does the Computer Club meet in here?”

****

“No, they meet in the science lab.”

****

“Oh, well...” Dean looked at Sam, gesturing to write things down, then looked back at the librarian. “We happened to notice that a young man by the name of Robert Wilder seems to have come in with a few students at the same time. You allow for computer sharing like that?”

****

“Only when they’re all working on a group project. Robert was working with some kids on their Economy project.”

****

“Economy project, you say?”

****

“Uh, yes. Each group from the class picked a company to study their corporate model and do a report on how the companies are successful and what they do to function as a business.”

****

“And what company was Robert and his crew studying?”

****

“Oh, I don’t know. There’s 12 groups, I can’t keep track. But you could ask the kids; they’re coming in soon for more research.”

****

“Thanks.” Sam walked over and handed the notebook back as a class full of seniors walked in.

****

“Here they are.” The librarian walked over to the group and began going through the procedures. The students began filing out, and Sam and Dean waited to ask her about Robert.

****

“Okay ma’am, where’s Robert?” Sam asked calmly.

****

She looked around, then looked up to Sam. “I don’t see him.”

****

Sam made a mark, then looked down at her again. “How about Sarah Miller?”

****

“Hm, don’t see her either.”

****

Dean gave a look to Sam as Sam continued. “Carrie Isley?”

****

“Not her either,” She leaned over to Dean. “If you ask me, Carrie and Sarah probably are doing some track practice.” She made a gesture towards the girl with the long black hair who was scribbling in her notebook. “Amber’s been making them look bad out there lately.”

****

“Amber? Amber Faulkner?”

****

“Yes!” She looked up at Sam in worry. “...she’s not in trouble again, is she?”

****

“Again?” Dean raised an eyebrow, then looked at Sam. The two walked over and sat down around her, making her inspect the both of them.

****

“The hell?” She closed her notebook and stood up.

****

“Hey, hey, sit down.” Dean waved her back down.

****

“What’s going on?” Amber gave a suspicious look at both of them, prompting them to flash their badges. Amber stopped and looked at Sam, raising an eyebrow and giving him a once-over. “Yeah, they let the Feds have hair like yours.”

****

“Sit down, smartass.” Dean pressed down on her shoulder and sat her down on the bench. “This is some serious business.”

****

The librarian skittered over to them. “Would you like my private office? You guys are making a lot of noise.”

****

“Please.” Sam smiled.

****

Amber crossed her arms and roughly dropped herself into the seat. “I’ve been keeping my nose clean, okay? So whatever ya got, I didn’t do it.”

****

“Listen, Miss Faulkner, you’re not in trouble.” Sam sat down across the table from her as Dean closed the door behind him. She cocked her head to the side, confused. “We’re not here about you. We’re here investigating one of your classmates, and we think you can help.”

****

Amber looked between the two, relaxing only slightly. “Who we talking about?”

****

“Robert Wilder.” Dean pulled a chair out of the corner, spun it around, and sat down next to Sam. “We tracked his IP address to a cracking of highly classified info. We know you guys’ve been working toget-”

****

Amber held her hands up, leaning back. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! We’re just doing an Economy project together, man! Don’t get it twisted!”

****

“What’s your project on?”

****

“We’re studying SucroCorp; you know, the big corn sugar company. We’re studying their business model and shit to present in class. I don't get the big deal."

****

"Do you know if Robert was involved in hacking the servers of SucroCorp?"

****

"Fuck if I know. I'm just making the graphics."

****

Sam and Dean looked at each other, then back to Amber.

****

"Listen up kid, this is some serious shit," Dean leaned in towards Amber, who instantly cloistered herself again. "and if we find out you were even in the same room as this kid while he was hacking into those classified files, you'll rot in jail as an accessory."

****

**“Wow, Dean’s gonna blow this entire thing for you too, Sam...”**

****

"On what charge?" Amber was completely not buying Dean's half-assing.

****

“Dean.” Sam interjected, pushing Dean back. Dean widened his eyes and sat back and crossed his arms.

****

“Your ‘good cop, bad cop’ routine is terrible. I’ve seen better on tv.”

****

Sam leaned slightly forward. "Robert's dead, Amber."

****

Amber's eyes widened in surprise. "What? I just talked to him this morning!"

****

"What did he tell you?"

****

"Just that he was cutting so he could finish the project. That's all, man." Amber sighed. "How'd he go?"

****

"We're not sure, but it looks like a professional job."

****

"Just great." She gave a very pensive look up at the ceiling. "Well, whatever he was doing that made you guys go apeshit over him, I didn't have anything to do with it."

****

Sam jotted a few things down in his notebook, then looked at Amber. "Alright. We believe you. Do you know of anything that could help my partner and I?"

****

"Nope."

****

"Alright, well, thanks." Sam got up and looked to Dean, who followed suit.

****

The duo let Amber go, then thanked the librarian and left the school, having not gotten much of use out of their trip.

****

"She wasn't suspicious at all." Dean gave Sam a look as they walked to their car.

****

“You were railing on her, Dean.”

****

“She’s a little punkass teenager, and she knows something about this Robert kid.”

****

“She’s obviously got a problem with authority; of course she’s gonna be a punkass with us.”

****

Dean stopped and looked up at Sam, half perplexed, half annoyed. “When did you get all poetry and kittens again?”

****

Sam stopped and turned to face Dean, shrugging. "I’m just saying, I wanna know what she got in trouble for. Maybe Robert isn’t the one we should be looking at.”

****

Dean let the notion roll around for a second, then gave a look of approval. “Okay, that I can get behind.” He then walked up to Sam and the two continued onwards.

****

“Wanna check Robert’s house again?” Sam tried fumbling through their options, unsure of the next move.

****

Dean gave him a look of full annoyance this time. “We turned the place upside down already.”

****

“Well, how about the other houses?”

****

“Fine with me.” Dean pulled the keys out of his pocket and unlocked the driver's side door.

****

Several hours of turning Carrie’s and Sarah’s trailers upside down proved fruitless, and their cover was nearly blown when they were confronted by Carrie’s mother without a warrant to search. School was getting out, and the initial round of investigations was through. Feeling completely out of leads, Sam and Dean returned to the hotel.

****

Across town, Amber mulled over what the clearly-not-FBI guys were going on about while figuring out her first move against Andrew. The guy was as high on her list of creepy assholes as any of Linda's prospective boy toys had ever been.

_**** _

_I'll have to hit him hard and fast before she drags him headlong into her bedroom._

****

“Hey Amber.”

****

Amber looked over to a sight she wasn’t expecting: Robert Wilder stood around a corner, leaning up against the school wall. Despite the report that he was dead as a doornail, he looked as healthy as usual; a bit paler than usual and with his short brown hair all tousled, but otherwise he looked the same as always with not a single injury.

“I knew those guys were lying.” Amber rolled her eyes as she walked over to Robert. “So what’s up?”

“Not much. Been home working on stuff.”

“You get any more news?”

“Nope, the line was quiet today.”

Amber bit her lip. “You think Roman’s backing down?”

Robert rolled his eyes. “Dick Roman never backs down, man.”

“Good.” Amber grinned. “What’s the prices at?”

“The stocks haven’t risen yet. They’re keeping it pretty hush-hush.”

******** ** **

“Awesome.” Amber smiled, turning around to walk away as a signal for them to both go.

****

“You going home?” He sounded over-quizzical, but then again she was being somewhat vague in her actions.

****

“Yeah...” Amber sighed, and Robert wrapped his arm around her shoulders as she turned around and began to walk home.

****

“Mind if I accompany you?”

****  
“I could use some help.” Amber winked.** **

“What’s up?”

Amber sighed in annoyance. “Linda’s dragged another man into the lair again.”

****

****Robert sighed loudly, looking annoyed. “I don’t know why you worry so much about that. She’s not your real mom anyways.”** **

 

“Because every guy is a downright asshole, and they always come in looking for some action. Linda makes bad mistakes, and this guy is skeezy as all hell. He’s gotta go.” She sighed, stopping and looking up at Robert. “I know, I know, I shouldn’t care. But she fought hard to keep me from going back to Casper, okay? I owe her. I can’t let these slimebuckets take advantage of her like Tyler did. When I’m out on my own, she can make all the horrible decisions she wants. But as long as I’m around, no scumbag’s gonna get a piece of what’s left of her.” **  
**

****

“You try too hard.”

“Let’s just get a sinking ready before he shows up for dinner.”

Robert's eyes widened. “Sinking? Really?”

“Full on.” She grinned widely, a devilish look filling her eyes as she began walking briskly towards her home.

Back at the motel, Dean chomped down on his late lunch burger from the diner while Sam snacked on an apple as he typed away at the computer.

“You find anything good on this kid?” Dean asked, turning on the television and leaning back in bed.

“This Amber girl’s an interesting one,” Sam replied. “She’s the daughter of Linda Faulkner, who happens to be the waitress from the diner we met this morning.”

“Interesting, but nothing good. What’s the rap sheet look like?”

“Well, she’s been suspended twice for fighting.”

“There we go!”

“In both instances, she fought the bully off of the initial victim, but the school’s zero tolerance policy kicked in and she was also suspended for participation.”

“So she’s not a troublemaker, she’s a white knight.” Dean took a bite of his burger, shaking his head a single time in approval.

“She also has a criminal record. Wanna guess what it’s for?”

Dean finished chewing, then half-swallowed the contents of his mouth. “White knighting.”

Sam gave Dean a look, then began reading from the screen. “A count of assault and 2 accounts of battery on her mother’s ex-husband, Tyler Matthews. She found out he was cheating on mom, so she went postal. She rigged the hot water tank to spray boiling hot water on him in the shower, and when he confronted him, she flung boiling hot oil at him in an attempt to scar him so, in her own words, ‘the cheating bastard’ll have a hard time speed dating.’ The charges were dropped by Matthews, but they’re still on her record.”

“This chick’s a crazy bitch.”

“Well, after her mother divorced the guy, she turned over a new leaf. Joined the Lady Oilers track team, improved her grades, and kept her nose clean since.”

“Well she’s up to something now, and if she’s the one who’s all up on Frank’s radar, she’s gotten herself in way too deep.”

“Well, all we have is that her and Robert and the others are doing a report on SucroCorp. We can’t pin anything on them besides that and it might not even be related, anyways.”

A knock at the door drew their attention, and Dean sat his plated burger on the nightstand before grabbing his pistol and edging up against the door. He peered through the peephole and inspected the figure.

The tall Caucasian woman on the other side of the door wore a hunter green maid’s uniform with a knee-length skirt and slip-on shoes. Her shoulder-length curly brown hair sat plainly around, held down with a black headband. Cherry red lipstick and neutral-toned makeup made her look rather stunning and bright.

“Housekeeping,” She smiled, appearing to have spotted Dean through the peephole. “sorry I’m late.”

Dean holstered his pistol in the back of his pants and opened the door as Sam grabbed a bottle of solution from his bag. Sam gave a nod to Dean once he was ready, and Dean opened the door.

“Hi there!” Her alto-toned voice was filled with warmth and clarity.

“I realize I’m late, and I’m sorry. I brought extra mints as compensation.” She held up a small bowl full of Andes mints. She looked in and spotted Sam. “Hi there! Name’s Yvette. Sorry I’m late. Are you guys busy?”

“We’re busy doing stuff, but come right on in.” Dean smiled and let Yvette in.

“Would you mind wiping your hands down with this?” Sam held the small bottle up along with a cotton swab. Yvette cocked her head to the side and looked between Sam’s offering and Sam himself.

“I cleaned my hands before I came in.”

“He’s a germaphobe.”

“Oh. My bad. Sure.” Yvette set the bowl down on the table next to the laptop and calmly scrubbed her hands down with Sam and Dean watching her hands intently. As she finished with no signs of smoke or irritation, she tossed the cotton ball and sealed the bottle.

“Okay, now that I soaked my hands in,” she smelled her hand, raising an eyebrow. “Gain Ultra Max, from the smell of it, can I get to doing some maidwork?”

“Of course. Sorry, I just...”

“No need to explain yourself, big boy.” Yvette smiled, turned around grabbing the empty laundry basket from behind her. “Now, just pretend I’m not here, okay?”

“Sure.” Dean walked over and grabbed his burger from the stand, plopping down next to Sam. Yvette began searching the room for dirty laundry to wash as Dean kept a keen eye on her for...various reasons.

“So you say this girl’s worth a look see, Sam?”

“We should talk to her again before...well, before she gets in trouble. We don’t have proof other than the Wilder incident that any trouble’s really lurking around anyways. And we still don’t know anything about the other girls; how many times have we ended up barking up the wrong tree?”

“But if she knows something-”

“Well maybe she’s not the only one, and maybe the other girls might be more willing to talk to us.”

“...Okay, you’ve got a point. So we hit up the other two tomorrow, and if we don’t get anything out of them, we go back to her.”

Yvette cleared her throat, getting Sam and Dean’s attentions. “Pardon me, but are...you two cops or something? Or should I be running for my life?”

Dean and Sam flashed their badges, making Yvette place her hand against her chest. “Oh my. Is there something bad I should be aware of?”

Dean gave a slick eyebrow wag of authority, then tossed a swagger in his tone. “Just a bit of wiretapping going on in Midwest. We’re hunting down some perps, nothing to worry about.” With a quick grin, he took another large bite of his burger.

“Wiretappers in Midwest? Sounds unusual.” She set the basket down and began making the beds. “There’s only a few people in town with a connection of their own, ya know? Most people are fine without it, or they come here or go to Casper for the free stuff.”

Dean leaned his head back slightly to quickly swallow the entire contents of his mouth, swallowing hard while quickly peeking down the front of her uniform. “Yeah, we could tell it was a rarity.” Dean quipped, mentally admiring the black silk bra she was wearing.

“I was shocked to get a connection in the motel.” Sam added.

“Well, surprise!” Yvette giggled. “This motel’s a rare jewel. We’ve got a bar and billiards room down by the pool, and the wifi box’s in there if you’re having bad reception in here.”

“Thanks.” Sam gave a wide, closed mouth grin, then looked over to Dean. He nudged his reverie-laden brother, drawing his attention away from idly munching down his burger and oogling the maid’s ass while she bent over the bed to make it.

“Hm?”

Sam leaned in and lowered his voice. “Think it would hurt to ask?”

“Go for it.”

Sam cleared his throat. “Pardon, Yvette.”

“Yes?” She stood up, stopping midway between tucking Dean’s sheets in.

“You seem to know a bit about Midwest.”

“I live there, so of course I would.” Yvette gave a warm smile.

“Mind if we ask you for some help?”

“With?” She walked over and sat down on Sam's bed.

"Do you know anything about a guy named Casey Wilder?" Dean leaned forwards.

"Who?" She reached out and snagged a mint from the bowl, quickly unwrapping it.

"He's a native of Edgerton, moved to Midwest a long while back, grandson's Robert..."

"Oh! Right right, his boy Nate's still down in Casper, runs a bar. Nate shipped his kid up to Pop when the kid got too much to handle. I heard of 'em. Nate's a tool." Yvette huffed, chewing down the mint in a few bites and idly dropping the wrapper next to the bowl.

"You know anything about the kid?"

"Well, word ‘round town is that he's a weird one. Quiet, shy, but I heard the girls love'em," She rolled her eyes and grabbed another mint. “I don’t see the appeal. I blame those vampire romance books.”

“You and me both...” Dean muttered.

“Do you happen to know about Carrie Isley or Sarah Miller?”

“The track team captain and her...’second in command’?” Yvette gave a devilish smirk. “Those two are inseparable, near literally. Their fathers wouldn’t approve of their teamwork methods, but who am I to judge? Sweet girls otherwise. They’ve been hanging around that Robert kid, talking about travel plans.”

“Travel plans?”

“A road trip, maybe?”

“You know a lot about the kids...” Sam gave Yvette a look.

“Hello~? Maid?” She pointed to her nametag. “When you do this job enough, you have a knack for picking up dirty little secrets.” She grabbed another mint subconsciously, then caught herself before she had unwrapped it. “Oh, I’m sorry,” She set it back down, nervously grinning. “haven’t had lunch yet.”

“Hey, no harm, no foul.” Dean smirked. “You got anything on Amber Faulkner, other than she’s a little white-knighting hellraiser?”

Yvette seemed silent for a moment, lost in thought before looking at Dean and Sam, her face paler and painted with a grim look. “That girl isn’t worth your time. She ain’t gonna listen to either of ya. Don’t like authority, and really don’t like men. Daddy issues up the ass, that girl. She and Robert have been also hanging around each other talking about the same sort of road trip that he’s got Carrie and Sarah talking about.”

“And the four of them all happen to have satellite dishes with wireless hook-ups.” Sam interjected.

“You got it.” Yvette winked.

“Anybody else in town got themselves a dish?” Sam scribbled things down in his notepad.

“Not that I know of.”

“You’ve been helpful, Miss Yvette.” Sam softly smiled.

"How lucky we must be that we pinned down the gossip queen of the trailer park...about time we got a break, eh Sammy?"

“Can I get back to making this bed now?” She giggled, looking down. “I have your laundry to do.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

Yvette got up and continued her routine, leaving shortly after. She gave the boys a wink as she left, grinning. “I’ll have these back tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait.” Dean smiled as Yvette closed the door behind her.

“See Sammy, this was a great job to take.”

“His head isn’t in the game, Sammy...”

“It doesn't strike you as odd that she knows so much about a bunch of teenagers?"

"Dude, she's a maid. They're probably all up here every weekend trying to not die of boredom." Dean grinned. "Besides, who wouldn't wanna chat it up with a cute little maid like her?"

"Dean..."

"What?"

The clock struck 6 pm, and a knocking rapped on the Faulkner’s front door.

Gabriel waited patiently, adjusting the collar of his burgundy red dress shirt. The air around him felt chilly, a reminder that his immunities to the elements, amongst all of his other celestial immunities, were slowly wearing thin.

His stock of Grace was running like a leaky faucet now without a stable set of six wings, but now was not a time to panic. He just had to conserve and make it through the night without incident, and hopefully another round of unconsciousness would improve his condition.

Linda answered the door, wearing a knee-length black dress that reminded Gabriel more of a night full of cocktails and a napkin with lipstick and a phone number on it than a candlelight dinner.

Not that he minded at all; she had a lovely set of legs.

Amber sat at the dining room table, finishing up homework. She looked slightly more formal in a black short sleeved blouse and a black knee-length pleated skirt, but the white sneakers and white knee-high socks completely threw the look off.

"C'mon in." Linda's warm smile flawlessly countered Amber's leer as Gabriel walked in. He adjusted the sleeves of his grey overshirt self-consciously; he hadn't needed to be overly presentable, but he was the one that suggested doing something formal while not looking much the part. Or perhaps it was just a subconscious effort to focus on something besides his constantly dissipating Grace. He silently hoped that he wouldn't have a terrible Cinderella-style disaster should all his available Grace run dry.

...oh, Linda was talking, wasn't she?

"Are you okay, Andrew?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking."

"So what's the plan for dinner?"

"You ladies like steakhouses? My buddy pointed me towards a particularly nice one down in Casper."

"Sounds good." Amber looked and sounded unenthused.

"A steakhouse? Might that be too much? You're still getting settled..."

"Hey, I'm fine." Looking her dead in the eyes, Gabriel cranked up the slick, reassuring charm.  “Besides, consider this me trying to make up for my less-than-appropriate leave of absence.”

Amber rolled her eyes so hard, Gabriel could hear the non-existent sigh rattle in her mind. With a slight turn of the head and an ocular shift from ‘debonaire Trickster’ mode to ‘concerned adult figure’ mode, he was half-glaring at Amber. “Are you ready?”

“Almost done.” Amber sighed, closing her book. “Could you get me a glass of water while I pack up?”

“Sure.” Gabriel smiled, walking over and retrieving a glass from the strainer and approaching the sink.

He reached for the cold water handle when he noticed the spray hose’s nozzle was pointed right at him, and rubber banded shut. Was she...trying to prank him? Oh man, really? The one thing he could really relate to anyone with, and she was into them? And her, of all the people in the world? Dad was clearly sending him a sign, a very good-natured sign at that. So it was time to just roll with it.

“Good one,” He turned around, smirking. He pointed at her, chuckling. “you almost got me there. I like you, a cute little amateur trick like that...I’ll have to show you better ones.”

He unwound the rubber band from the nozzle’s handle, then turned the sink on. A high-powered blast of water shot out of the faucet, rocketing the loosened faucet up and outwards at Gabriel, who just barely evaded taking the metal sink fixture to the forehead. Water sprayed out, soaking his entire body from the waist up as he fought to find the handle through the pressurized spray.

As he finally grabbed the handle and turned the sink off, he could hear Amber stifling laughter.

Linda was livid, her face tomato-red with both rage and humiliation. “Amber Jane! Clean up this mess!”

Gabriel smirked as he caught his breath; that was a brilliant prank if nothing else. He’d have to get her back, of course, but he could think about it at dinner.

Amber grabbed the mop and bucket from the cupboard and began mopping. “When we get home, you’re grounded for a week and you’re fixing the sink, top to bottom!”

“What? Aw, Mom!”

“You heard me.” Her aggressive tone was refreshing to Gabriel’s ears. She walked over to Gabriel, who had begun peeling his overshirt off. “Do you need something dry?”

“I have extra clothes in the car.” Gabriel began wringing the overshirt into the sink. “I’m fine.”

Dropping the soaked overcoat in the sink in defeat, Gabriel walked outside to the ‘78 black Pontiac Firebird Trans Am parked in the street, popping the trunk. He went through the small pile of clothes in the back, picking a long-sleeved dark blue overshirt with demure brown buttons after careful consideration. It truly looked the best out of all the overshirts he currently possessed, much to his chagrin. He then selected a red undershirt, and a plain white beater. Overlayering was certain to keep him at a more comforting level of warm. Shaking the blue overshirt out and phasing in a soft scent of cologne through it, he grinned and ran his hand over it, flattening out the wrinkles.

He quickly walked back inside and beelined for the bathroom, where his towel from the morning was sitting, waiting to be used again. Drying off and changing into his fresh outfit, and rolling the sleeves up twice, he dried off his hair and restyled it. By the time he was finished, Amber had finished mopping up. Linda sighed and approached him.

“I’m so sorry.” She wrapped her arms around him in a warm embrace, prompting him to reciprocate.

Giving a consoling pat on the back, he sighed. “Don’t worry. I thought it was hilarious. She’s got style.” He grinned. “Still hungry?”

Linda paused as if stunned.  It probably wasn’t very often her male friends thought blowing the top off a sink was ‘hilarious’, especially when it was blowing off in their general direction. However, she doubted that he was lying.  “Y-yeah. Still hungry.”

“Let’s get going then.”

His attempt to woo the girls with a classic muscle car appeared to be a smashing success as they walked outside; Linda’s eyes went wide, and Amber gasped.  The girl circled the car, eying it with keen interest before the look on her face dropped.  She scoffed. "Nice compensation-mobile." Gabriel smirked impishly while looking over at the girl; she was trying hard to not like it.

He opened the driver’s side, popping the lock for the passenger side, shifting the chair back for Amber to crawl in, and gave an inviting wave.  “Now, keep the dirt out. This thing’s on loan.”

It was a quiet drive to Casper, the trio enjoying the beauty of the landscape and the open road. It had been a long time since Gabriel had really driven a car around in a roadtrip-type of deal; he couldn't help but wonder if the simple joy he was feeling was anything like the sort of feeling Sam and Dean got to feel while traveling cross-country all the time. Flying around took the sightseeing aspect out of the equation, eliminating the chance to really appreciate all his Father's little quirky works, large and small along the stretches of blacktop.

Every once in a while, Linda looked over at him and cast an affectionate gaze at him, making him smile back in response. She was truly happy to have him around, and it was a feeling that which never stopped feeling foreign to the archangel. Even back home in Heaven, and moreso in Asgard, people's reactions were typically a varying mix of respect, fear, and obligational love between blood relatives.

Getting used to people being happy to see him was something almost foreign; not that he had ever made it a habit to try and change any of the perceptions and misgivings people had of him for the better. He was always off and about to the next Trickster event, smiting another pile of the mighty after another, hiding amongst and mingling with the local population just long enough to ping a hunter's radar before he had to go.

Linda was just one of those rare moments over the millennia where mingling had led to something fortuitous, and he felt slightly foolish now for having so hastily discarded it without so much as a parting gift.

Surely he couldn't blame himself for not foreseeing this circumstance he was in now; if Dean had never half-guilted him into not being the tactical retreatist he always was without trying to save his so-called friends, he wouldn't have been in this car, with Linda, right this moment. He would be at the Spearmint Rhino, drinking in the sights of the lovely wall-to-wall ladies while sipping some fruity alcoholic drink and downing his fourth serving of tiramisu.

Well, now that he was here with no real purpose in sight, and with nobody besides the two ladies in the car with him knowing he was alive, he was free to at least lie low and work on his people skills.

If there was one thing he was determined to do now in his spare time, it was to win the ball of anger in the back’s trust and maybe even her affection. She had spent most of the time with her head in her phone, tapping away on the keyboard. A few smiles had emerged here and there, and his query as to what was making her actually do so for once was met with only glares of dagger-eyed death. He gleaned little mental wavelengths from her every once in a while when he was around her, but there was very little which genuinely pleased her. He wasn’t ever one of them.

He had come to the conclusion that getting in good with the girl was the one thing he could do that would make Linda happier than any other single thing, and that was his personally assigned penance. Hopefully a nice dinner would be the foothold to the ascent of the mountain of a task that seemed to be.

They had arrived without incident after nearly an hour's drive, and Gabriel decided to open the door for them before leading them inside. Implicit trust of his actions, still another thing he wasn't used to.

Inside, the restaurant was warm and inviting, with dark earth tones of black, brown, and red being the dominant colors making up the family-sized booths and wallpaper. Dark chestnut frames held up the roof and walls up in a sprawling ranch style, a far cry from the red bricks of Midwest. The patrons calmly and quietly sat scarfing their meals down; their strange synchronicity of their movements coming off as a bit eerie to Gabriel. He shook his head and happily followed the hostess to their booth.

Amber and Linda sat down across from him, Amber immediately burying her head in the menu. Linda rolled her eyes, ending the roll on Gabriel’s face. Gabriel shrugged as he looked through his menu.

A cold chill ran up his spine; he wasn’t accustomed to his early warning system kicking in to tell him to skedaddle, especially not while he was genuinely relaxed, but there it was. Whatever was setting it off was approaching their table fast. Setting the menu down, he looked up and towards the offending target, who just so happened to be standing at the table.

“Hi guys. Name’s Brooke, and I’ll be your server tonight. What can I get you guys to drink?”

Gabriel’s eyes went wide; the girl standing in front of them was anything but human. No, that ink black interior, the big mouth and sharp teeth now persed in a warm and inviting smile...

It defied all logic for it to be here; Dad had locked those little pitbulls in the basement with only the toughest of locks. But here it was, this little Leviathan who was now staring at him, waiting for him to tell it what drink he wanted.

“Got anything strong?”

“You want a draft? Sure. Coors fine?”

“Yeah...” He gave Brooke a wary look and she walked off briskly. He watched her walk off, and she turned back to wink at him. Gabriel shifted in his chair slightly, then noticed that both Amber and Linda were staring at him.

  
“....Her smile isn’t off-putting to you two?” They both shrugged and gave non-offended looks in response. “...Alright then, it’s just me.”

The warm and comforting atmosphere the meal was supposed to have was shattered, and Gabriel found himself cautiously enjoying it. Brooke kept looking over, giving little looks here and there just to taunt him, no doubt. They knew what each other was, there was no escaping that fact.

A panic rose up in him; to make a move here risked exposing himself, but waiting would give the worm enough time to tear Casper a new one, even by itself. He had to catch it off-guard, then.

...Maybe the Winchesters were coming to get it. Maybe he didn’t have to bother with it.

...Did the Winchesters have any clue about Leviathans? Screw that, clearly anything evil of this magnitude was all over their radar by now, even if they weren’t the root cause of it. Did they know of any good way to nuke them? This was all important stuff and he couldn’t leave it to chance that he was the only thing around that could kill these things. This was far too dire to rely on the Winchesters for, not now, not here. They could thank him twice-over for everything later.

He checked on the girls from time to time, making small talk like asking Linda about what went on after he had left, checking up on Amber and her grades and interests, the sort of stuff humans did when getting acquainted. The little talks did well to calm his nerves, and the tension surrounding them.

He perked up as he sensed the Leviathan leaving out the back of the building. He paused time, rendered himself invisible, and dropped a shadow double down to keep the girls entertained once he snapped time back. Briskly walking a straight line directly through the building to the Leviathan, he paused time again as he caught Brooke in the parking lot. She was carrying a large black garbage bag to the dumpster; terribly appropriate.

Brooke stopped dead in its tracks, looking around suspiciously. “Oh...is this a trick of yours, Gabriel? Cute.”

Gabriel dropped out of invisibility, completely perplexed to the creature’s knowledge.

“There you are.” A smug smirk crossed Brooke’s lips as the creature showed its massive fangs. “You look good for being dead, I must say.”

“The reports of my death have been,” He put on a whimsical pensive look, then looked directly at the Leviathan. “greatly exaggerated, I’d say.”

“Well then, we should rectify that right now.” Brooke dropped the bag and took a more battle-ready stance. Gabriel summoned up his Archangel Blade, feeling the action drain him significantly. He was going to have to rely far more on his Trickster magic at this point, he feared.

“Tell me one thing before I cut your throat out: how do you know my name?”

Brooke grinned. “Oh, we all got quite a bit from Castiel before we popped him like a stupid feathery water balloon.”

Gabriel gave a worried look; Castiel was dead?

“Oh, you haven’t heard? Little idiot bit off far more than he could ever chew.” Brooke smirked. “You know, he may have been the bookwormiest of the bookworms in his Garrison, but he sure as hell wasn’t the smartest.” The creature chuckled.

“Shut your cakehole, you little pile of sludge. That’s my little brother you’re talking about, and he’s far smarter than you will ever hope to be.”

“Oh really, Gabriel? Are you dropping that far on the insult chain? I’m bored.” Brooke lunged, and Gabriel dodged, swinging his sword and decapitating the Leviathan in one broad stroke. Its head didn’t take long to skitter over and be reattached. “See? That was fun. Are you going to continue just swinging that around? Because it tickles and I really like it.”

“Actually, no. I’m tired of you. But! I have a great idea of what to do with you. See, it’s a dog eat dog world you’ve landed yourself in,” With a snap of his fingers, he conjured up a large pile of pitbulls. “and these guys? They’re a little hungry.”

He froze the Leviathan in time, then teleported back into the restaurant and replaced his shadow before restarting time. Within a few seconds, a scream rang out, drawing attention outside. Gabriel didn’t bother to look up, and continued eating.

"The hell is that...?" Linda stood up, and Gabriel grabbed her wrist.

"Whatever it is, it's not our problem, right?"

Amber stared at him in wonder.

The distant barks and growls of pitbulls tearing Brooke apart sent the patrons into a confused state; it wasn't until a few black goo drenched hounds went charging past the large windows that most of the patrons panicked.

Gabriel shoved the last piece of steak in his mouth, then grabbed Linda’s and Amber’s arms, bounding from his seat and yanking them from their places. Chewing the hunk down and swallowing, he looked around, trying to act natural to the situation. From the corner of his eye, he spotted the shift manager’s creepy Leviathan maw and panicked.

This was already a bad decision. There was now two of them. With very little Grace to spare, and only a small number of tricks he could pull in the middle of a highly alert populace, he was incredibly uberboned.

A well-placed tactical retreat was the best option at this point, as much as he hated to admit it. Trying anything with the girls in tow wasn’t going to bode well for the squishy ladies.

Letting go of their arms and swiftly wrapping his arms around theirs, he went to work digging out his wallet, dropping a small assortment of bills on the table before securing them with his beer bottle.

“Are we leaving?” Linda gave him a gobsmacked look.

“Clearly with a dog mob outside, we shouldn’t stay.” He hid his terrified face well, dropping a mask of faint concern down over it.

“Wouldn’t it be safer to stay inside?” Amber queried.

“Probably not...well, at least not where we were sitting.” He continued to shuffle for the side door, moving his way through the small crowd with the girls in tow.

Gabriel looked back swiftly; the shift manager had disappeared through the cloud of employees. That was not good...

They left the building and he beelined for the Firebird. From his right, out scampered the shift manager.

"Hey hey, go back inside!" He called out. Gabriel wasn't falling for that.

Dropped his arm out of the sight range of the girls, but in clear view of the shift manager, he slipped his wallet from his pocket and disguised it as his Archangel Blade. He gave it a soft waggle, hoping he could intimidate the little Leviathan into letting them go in light of the fatal mauling his cohort was getting.

"We feel like leaving. Do you mind?"

The intimidation was enough to paint a slightly worried look on the Leviathan's face. He must have been a small fry.

"You should be worried about the dogs more than us."

Amber looked over at Gabriel, then seemed to panic as the dogs howled.

“So let us go and we won’t sue for emotional distress.”

The Leviathan got out of their way, and Gabriel quickly disposed of the illusion as the creature skittered off back into the restaurant. The girls quickly piled into the car and Gabriel wasted no time getting in and high-tailing it back to Midwest.

“Sorry, ladies. That was completely unexpected.”

“That was fucking weird.” Amber replied from the back, grabbing her phone and texting up a storm.

“Did you at least get enough to eat?” The girls nodded yes. “You sure? There’s a McDonald’s up ahead. It’s nothing fancy but-”

“I’m fine. I just wanna sleep.” Linda sighed.

“I’ll make dinner tomorrow. How about that?”

“I’m working the night shift tomorrow.”

“...Lunch then?” Small smiles were turning up at the corners of her mouth, fluttering Gabriel’s vessel’s heart and dropping his blood pressure. He had to continue; the feeling was amazingly calming after such a high-tension Leviathan run-in. “Ooh, or how about breakfast in bed?”

“Fine, fine.” Linda patted his forearm and smiled. “What’s on the menu?”

“Buttermilk pancakes? I spotted a carton in the fridge while you were getting ready this morning.”

“Ooh.” Linda actually looked hungry now.

A few minutes went by, and Amber looked up into the rearview mirror. “...Andrew?”

He looked back up at her in the rearview. “Yeah?”

“...Have you ever killed a man?”

He looked back at her, a dead serious look on his face. “Yes, but they were all bad.” He gave a warm smile as Amber’s eyes widened, then looked back at the road.

**  
She went back to typing insanely, making a smug smile spread across Gabriel’s face.**


	3. Conduct I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 1: Gabriel finds himself slowly recovering from all his injuries, despite all his Grace troubles. The Winchesters continue their investigation and finally conclude that they're not alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I apologize for the long wait, but I wrote two chapters' worth of fic! Sorry!)

Gabriel and the Faulkners arrived back at the trailer in record time. Gabriel had nearly lodged the pedal into the floor of the car, pressing it down so hard. The action unnerved Linda and made Amber so concerned, she sat petrified and staring at the back of Gabriel's head the entire drive.

****

Silently getting out of the car, Gabriel went to open the door for Linda. However, both of them had beaten him to the punch, quickly getting inside before he was halfway to the door.

****

He stopped at the base of the stairs; the muscles wrapped around the back of his vessel’s ribcage spasmed, making him flinch and inhale sharply. His Grace flickered unsteadily like a faulty lightbulb, trying to focus and draw itself primarily around the base of where his primary wings normally were. One final long flicker and it fizzled out, leaving him feeling colder now in the lightly gusting wind than ever before. The local gravity field even seemed to be doing a better job of buckling his body to crush him into the pavement.

****

As he continued, he found that every little movement of his arms tugged away at the increasingly aching muscles in his back. Without any sort of natural immunity to pain, his condition was rapidly becoming unbearable. He might have to ask Linda about secretly snagging another one of those little white pills.

****

Finally getting himself inside, he watched Amber spot him and skitter into her room. Linda looked over at him, and he quickly deployed his “everything’s perfectly fine” face with a warm smile.

****

He was going to have to work through this pain until he could sleep; sleep was the only escape.

****

As Amber slammed her door shut and Gabriel finished walking in, Linda motioned her gaze to her bedroom door, and a slight panic rose in him. What did she want? Oh hell no, of all the times...

****

He gave an ‘after you’ look, and she walked inside, Gabriel following her in. After closing the door behind himself, he stood face to face with Linda in her room. It was likely the master bedroom, with the bay window of the trailer hanging over the bed. A quaint queen sized bed with floral sheets that probably had a matching comforter in storage took up the majority of the floor space, while a dresser and a bookcase filled mostly with knick-knacks and treasured figurines took up good portions of the wall space. A small closet with a lightweight wooden sliding door sat to the far back of the room, and a small door stood next to it; likely a tiny personal bathroom.

****

Her face was painted with terror, her arms unconsciously shivering.

****

“The hell was that, Andrew...?”

****

A curiously strong panic rose through him; he was so nervous to answer, and that layer of nervousness threatened to break the calm facade he was keeping in check.“Hell if I know. We should stay inside for the night and listen in tomorrow.”

****

"I meant you and the staff."

****

He raised an eyebrow; was she onto him? Hell, why was he getting paranoid about it? "What do you mean?"

****

Her eyes filled with a softly boiling anger. "You and the waitress, and the manager."

****

He shrugged, regretting the motion immediately.  "They really weirded me out!  Got some bad vibes off them both, ya know?”

****

"And you in the car, with Amber." She pursed her lips, making him feel incredibly defensive.

****

"I was joking!" He tossed his hands up in the air, an action which made muscles in his back burn like lit coals in response.

****

"She's really shaken up."

****

Ah, finally, a place to slide in and take an upper hand. His nerves calmed as he gave an unamused and rather serious look at her. "So are you," he took a step closer to her. "you look really out of it."

****

"I don't know what the hell is going on, and you make a joke like that?" Crossing her arms and pursing her lips, she waited for his response.

****

Gabriel sighed, feeling too guilty about it. He was only trying to play with her..."I get it, it was made in bad taste, what with the dogs apparently mauling someone outside the restaurant. I'm sorry."

****

“Don’t apologize to me...” She relaxed slightly pulling her arms out of a knot and resting them lightly akimbo. She watched the almost too calm man in front of her dissolved, replaced with someone having a slight meltdown of his own.

****

“Ugh...right.” His usually reassuring grin fell flat, making her worry. He was bluffing very badly; was he more terrified than she was, so much so that he couldn’t keep the facade up?

****

She frowned, approaching him and wrapping her arms around his waist. “Are you alright?”

****

Gabriel sighed deeply as his heart fluttered from her embrace. The concept of lying crossed his mind, only to be chased away by the guilt associated with every lie he had accumulated atop her. He was in very poor shape; so bad that he couldn’t keep any of his emotions at their usual levels. His vessel was incessant that he reciprocate the embrace, and the request was hard to shove away.

****

He wrapped his arms around her tightly, pulling her closer and resting his head on her shoulder. The effect was near-instantaneous and overwhelming; the nervousness and anxiety that had been plaguing him melted into a bubbling, gooey mass of elation and affection so intense he had almost forgotten the pain he was in.

****

...Until her hands started creeping up his back towards his shoulder blades.

****

Gabriel gasped sharply, tensing up and clenching his fingers around whatever fabric of her dress he could grab.

****

“Andy...?” She quickly pulled her hands away and grabbed his arms. “What’s wrong?”

****

There was no good lie to avoid this at all, was there? Well, there was a good truth...

****

“I don’t know, it just...feels like knives and electricity when you do that...”

****

She pulled his hands off of her and furrowed her eyebrows. “Bed, sit.”

****

He wanted to make some sort of cheesy joke, but nothing good came to him fast enough. He merely sat down on the edge of the bed.

****

“Alright, let’s get you out of these and take a look.”

****

Crawling up on the bed behind him, Linda began gingerly rolling the dark blue shirt off his shoulders. Gabriel tried to help, but Linda slapped his shoulder.

****

“Don’t move a bit, Andy.” She gently removed his overshirt and tossed it aside, then yanked the undershirt up by the collar.

****

“You know, I was looking forward to this, but not for this reason.” Gabriel’s comment elicited a chuckle from Linda.

****

“I completely agree.”

****

“You do, now?” Gabriel gave a half-grin, even if he knew she couldn’t see it.

****

“Maybe later, big boy. Now, lift your arms up slowly so I can get this off.”

****

“Ooh, baby.” Making terrible jokes and cheesy pick-up lines made her giggle, which rubbed off on him, eliciting chuckles from him and numbing the psychological effects of the pain enough to make it bearable.

****

Getting down to his beater, she stopped for a few seconds, looking to examine the situation. She got up and began digging underneath her bed.

****

"What's the matter?"

****

"You sit tight, got it?"

****

That didn't sound good at all. "How bad is it?"

****

She paused, then sighed. "...I think there's some sort of infection oozing out here...I'm gonna hafta cut this off to make sure we don't burst anything else."

****

"That's...really unattractive sounding."

****

"Didn't say it was."

****

The sound of a sack full of many small objects caught his attention; Linda had tossed up an old army medical bag. She then scrounged through the bag, pulling out a half-empty bottle of cheap vodka, a package of sterile gauze, a pair of latex gloves, and a pair of scissors.

****

"Are those regulation?"

****

"My grampa swore by 'em after the war. He sewed my dad's leg up with dental floss, my nanna's favorite needle, and a fifth of Jack; well, not all of it was used to sterilize his leg..." Linda smirked and chuckled. "Now, this is probably gonna hurt. So brace yourself now before I start cutting this thing off."

****

She snipped the fabric away carefully down the length of his spine, and a soft and sharp gasp escaped her lips as she began pulling the fabric away. "We have to get you to the hospital, Andy. How in the hell have you been dealing with this...?"

****

His eyes widened. "What? What is it?"

****

"These are some terrible burns; half-blistered and everything! What the hell did you do?!"

****

"Burns...?" Had his Grace faded trying to heal him? From the approximate epicenters of the pain, it seemed that, if it was burn damage, it had been caused by his primary wings ashing. He'd honestly have to think of something to say.

****

"These patterns of burn marks...I've never seen anything like it..."

****

"How bad is it?"

****

"I'd say maybe...second degree, medium-rare? Good lord, how have you been managing to do anything in this shape?"

****

Oh, right! Perfect. "Guess that Vicodin did the trick better than either of us thought." He smirked, hoping she'd offer another one. "It must've just worn off while I was driving back; my back hasn't hurt this badly since we stopped outside the house."

****

"...well huh. Maybe you aren't as bulletproof as you let on."

****

"You're telling me..." Gabriel rolled his eyes.

****

"Well this is all pretty grisly back here," Linda sighed, closing her eyes in thought as she began taking delicately draping the cut ends of his beater back over his burns. "I'm taking you down to the hospital whether you like it or not."

****

Gabriel’s eyes widened; oh, he was not doing that at all. He had to think of something to say to make her idea stop. Anything to halt this flight of terror that had raced through him the moment he thought of a million different disaster he could cause in an unconscious response to being poked and prodded by doctors.

****

He reached back and grabbed her arm, keeping his gaze forwards. The action reminded him of the steakhouse, and a lightbulb flickered on in his head. “I don’t want to go to Casper again, do you? Who the hell knows if they’ve caught those dogs yet...?”

****

Linda pursed her lips, mulling it over. After a few moments, she sighed in defeat and he let go of her.

****

“Fine, I’ll see what I can do.” She rolled her eyes, and he folded his hands in his lap, trying not to move.

****

She fumbled around the bag, pulling out a jar of aloe, a jar of honey, a tiny glass mixing cup, and an individually wrapped toothpick. She set them aside and then dug out a small q-tip container and began uncapping the vodka.

****

“Before I start, you want a shot? Because this’s probably gonna hurt a lot.”

****

“Your honest bedside manner is refreshing.” Gabriel smirked.

****

“You want some or not?” She shook the bottle, raising her tone.

****

“Make it two.”

****

“I’ll get you a pair. Hold on.”

****

Linda got up and walked towards the kitchen, spotting Amber’s door closing shut suddenly. She rolled her eyes and collected a pair of shot glasses, along with her well-hidden bottle of top-shelf whiskey in the back of the cupboard above the stove. Walking back in the room, she quickly poured out a pair of shots, handing Gabriel one after the other as he knocked them back in one quick movement after another.

****

The intense fires of the whiskey burnt through him, numbing everything it touched and filling his senses with a soft anticipatory tingle as he handed the shot glasses back to Linda. She curled back up onto the bed, and he watched as she calmly searched the main compartment in the bag, rummaging through all the tool kits and evaluating the tools she needed for the first step of her field doctor roleplay. After a few minutes, the soft tingling from the alcohol had grown quite stronger, and all he could feel was a faint floating sensation.

****

A floating sensation in a river of bliss. His torso slumped forwards with ease at the simple pressing of Linda’s fingers against his spine, his head quickly becoming heavy with the weight of the liquor it continued the perpetual motion until his neck stopped it and hung it forwards. Only two mere shots and he was already falling apart like this?

****

He could feel her rooting around with...were those tweezers and a q-tip?...and the burning sensations from the alcohol as she cleaned out the infected tissue that refused to move. He kept silent as the whiskey’s influence dug deeper into him, blending with his emotions and quelling the pain of the burns entirely by their combined efforts. He found the physical reaction to the growing intoxication and the terror that he was actually suffering intoxication to unknown depths without his Grace as a safety net and the pleasurable thoughts of Linda so gingerly handling his vessel’s, or rather now for the time being, his own, body...he had to try and focus himself. Not thinking of stupid jokes to make was helping.

****

She was doing something serious and delicate with his body, and she didn’t need him making stupid jokes about it unless she prompted him for them.

****

The feelings of great vulnerability and unbearable pain had subsided, replaced with an ethereal serenity and a vast sea of gratitude to Linda for begrudgingly taking up the task of not dragging him to the hospital twice now. He was just tossing himself at her mercy over and over again, constantly making her have to put him back to his feet. Why she continued to do so confused him; her mercy was clearly more infinite than he gave her credit for. Ah, mercy and forgiveness, two little gems humanity had in spades.

****

She had blended the aloe and honey with the toothpick in the tiny cup during his musings, having finished disinfecting the burns, and had now begun to steadily and gently smooth the mixture over his burns. The sensation was less painful and more soothing and relaxing. The touches of her gloved fingertips with the lukewarm smooth mixture over his seared flesh was far more comforting than he thought it would be; the electrical impulses of pain became lost in the ocean of peacefulness of her absolutely careful and delicate gliding movements against his body.

****

The intensity of positive emotions coursing through him began to outweigh the negative one he had been feeling earlier; and leading the charge alongside bliss rose affection, with love clinging to the coattails. He wondered silently if this was what she felt about him, and suddenly it was a terrifying thought. Did she really still feel that sort of thing, after everything? It would certainly explain her infinite mercy...

****

Should he reciprocate? Join in and pray that this time wasn’t going to end in him running for his life with Leviathans on his tail? No, no...no this time he could be honest, come clean, and-, oh that was stupid. Normal people like Linda would scoff at all the madness, and she might not even forgive him this time if she knew everything was a lie. Well, these feelings he felt weren’t lies; they were actually being felt. Maybe he was trying to overthink this. Dammit he was too drunk. This was a disaster.

****

“You okay down there, Andy?” Linda leaned forwards, looking at the side of his face and drawing his attention.

****

“I think I’m overthinking things.”

****

“Don’t think. Drink.” Linda grinned.

****

He hesitated for a moment, rapidly wondering if his desire was a good idea, but threw caution to the wind. He leaned forwards, kissing her softly on the lips for a moment, and drawing away in panic.

****

...That seemed to sober him up a bit. Her cheeks reddened in a soft blush as she grinned.

****

“And what was that for?”

****

Damn, he hadn’t come up with a great reason. He had to think of something.

****

_Dammit, be honest._

****

“You’ve put up with my crap far too much today, and I couldn’t think of a better way to really express myself about it.”

****

She sharply exhaled in some vague form of amusement as she shook her head. “If I didn’t still feel anything for ya, Andy, I wouldn’t have let you in here in the first place.”

****

She did still have feelings, dammit. The really clingy kinds. The kinds of ones people had in those dime store Harlequin novels. Crap.

****

"I would've thought you'd have forgotten me a hundred thousand times over by now."

****

Linda shook her head and smirked, pulling upwards and leaning over towards the first aid bag. "I can't forget ya if I tried, Andy. We had all those good times together," she began rummaging through the bag for something. "all those wild nights and somber days, the long trips to nowhere in particular..."

****

She sat up, sighing. "All I got's this one small box of gauze; this won't do."

****

Gabriel eyed the bag, realizing she hadn't checked the small pocket in the front. Well, she was about to find all the gauze she needed. He needed a good test to make sure he was all set, anyways.

****

He gave a quick snap, then pointed to the neglected pocket. "Did you check in there?"

****

"I don't put gauze in there though."

****

"Maybe you totally did at some point and forgot...?"

****

She blinked, then dug into the pocket, retrieving a large roll of gauze and staring at it. “....huh. Forgot I had that there.”

****

Gabriel smiled softly as she leaned back with the gauze and some tape.

****

She began unrolling the gauze over the burns, having hovered over his back with the gauze for a minute or so before deciding to just gauze the entire segment of his back from shoulder blade to shoulder blade and as far outwards as was needed.

****

“I gotta ask...what makes you think I could forget you, Andy?”

****

“It’s been a long time...I’ve heard you moved on, obviously. Just thought you’d just write me off.”

****

“You were, by far,” She laid the first long strip of gauze down, snipping away the gauze and beginning a new row. “the best man I ever had.”

****

Gabriel sighed deeply, his tone turning somber and flat. “That’s a shame.”

****

“You gave me so much when I had so little. And not just the nice gifts, and the nice dinners, or any of those terrifyingly thrilling romps,” She smirked, recalling a few of the more adventurous intimate moments. “but...you were there for me. And you cared for me when I was sick, and held me when I was down and out and unemployed.” She began cutting strips of tape to secure the numerous strips of gauze making up the whole makeshift bandage. “Now you’re the one all busted up, and it would be wrong of me to leave you high and dry after all of that.”

****

“I should have...done something. Not left you alone. I didn’t think about what it would do to you. I never thought of it.” He was contemplating just tearing his hair out as she taped everything up; how regular humans dealt with this constant deluge of emotions and thoughts on a daily basis was staggering. The fact that drugs and alcohol were so commonly used and abused was becoming a far clearer issue in the archangel’s mind.

****

Focus, focus. That was what was required. A daunting task at this point, really. Focus on an honest apology to give, because at the very least it was necessary. Forgiveness was not the end goal, but merely a bonus. The implicit trust they showed earlier needed some level of trust and honesty from him in response.

****

Linda had actually, at some point, acknowledged his walking out and he was certain she had said he had his reasons; he was only half-listening to her as he tried to re-rail his train of thought from the massive de-railing it was suffering.

****

He honed in on her next sentence onwards; he came in at the second half of a sentence about some guy named Steve. “...and he seemed fine and dandy...until he stole my television set. But he was a charmer.” She scoffed, taping up the left side of his back. “But then I met Tyler and I thought it was good and I just...I don’t know. I thought it was gonna be different. But if it wasn’t for him, Amber wouldn’t be here. She’s really taking everything so hard. She blames herself for him, and I wish she wouldn’t. She just was in the wrong place at the right time.”

****

Gabriel softly nodded and gave a soft grunt of acknowledgement, letting her know he was at least listening to her while she continued taping the outside border of the gauze.

****

“Well, I’m just happy that you seem so enamored by her little hazard.”

****

“Ah, that. Well, you know me. I love a good hazardous prank! What’s a good hazardous prank between a grown man and an angry teenaged girl hell bent on making said man’s life miserable, huh?” He smirked.

****

Linda sighed and smiled good-naturedly as she began finishing up the taping process. “Still got your humor intact.”

****

“Believe me, it’s the only thing I have sometimes.” He looked down.

****

“I’ll drink to that.”

****

“You want a shot back there? How about a round?”

****

“Might as well.” She got up and walked over to the dresser, pouring whiskey into the shot glasses. She handed him a glass while holding up her own. “Here’s to keeping in good spirits, together, for however long we’ve got.”

****

Gabriel raised his shot. “Cheers.” With a light tapping of the glass rims, they both downed their shots with ease. Gabriel winced, hoping this was going to be the one to take him out like a light. Copious alcohol consumption was the sort of thing that knocked people out...right?

****

Linda sat down next to him, putting her kit back together.

****

“Hey.” She looked over at him in response. “Hey, I just...” He sighed. “I’m sorry I screwed everything up. I’ve been an idiot for quite a long time and-”

****

She rested her hand against his mouth. “Don’t even blame yourself for me. I made a lot of dumb mistakes before you, and it was just dumb luck I met you, because if it wasn’t you, it would have been just another troublemaker. I’m happy we had our fun, and well, it seems dumb luck has stuck us together again, and I say let’s have a little more fun and just set things aside. The more I think about it, you just leaving is probably the least trouble a guy’s given me on the way out.”

****

Gabriel huffed humoredly, simply gobsmacked by her comment.

****

“Now I gotta get Amber up in the morning, so I gotta hit the hay.”

****

Gabriel went to get up, but Linda moved her hand from his mouth to the top of his head, pressing down and backwards towards the mattress. “You can stay for the night if you want.” She grabbed the bag and slid it back under the bed.

****

“Are you sure?”

****

“Of course.”

****

Gabriel gave her a look while trying his hardest to kick his shoes off gracefully. At this point, that simply was not happening.

****

“Just promise me you’ll at least apologize to Amber.” She softly slid her hand from atop his head down to his jaw, making a shiver roll up Gabriel’s spine.

****

“Of course.” He gave a soft half-smile, the shiver diluting through his body and fizzling into another wave of warm tingling sensations.

****

Linda smiled and leaned forwards, softly pressing her lips against his, making him far more alert than he had been. She pulled back a few seconds later, leaving him curiously staring at her like a concerned deer in headlights. The look amused Linda greatly; wasn’t he the one who just earlier did the same?

****

She probably caught him off guard. The glazed over look in his eyes suggested he was ever so quickly mentally departing again; he mentally wandered almost too much sometimes, she could never properly count the number of times he was so preoccupied in something she had to repeat herself.

****

Realizing he was probably mentally gone for the night, she stood up and turned around to unzip her dress. “I’m gonna get comfy. You need to get into any sleep clothes?” She waited until she had gotten the dress straps off her shoulders to check on him; he was staring at her, and her gaze drove his away. “Nothing? Alright, suit yourself.”

****

He went back to fiddling with his shoes as she dropped her dress to the floor, revealing a matching set of black silk undergarments; simply a solid underwire brassiere and bikini cut briefs, but nevertheless sensual in nature.

****

Rummaging through the drawers, she retrieved a plain yellow camisole and a pair of red plaid boxers, quickly putting them on before turning back around to face Gabriel.

****

He averted his gaze once more, prompting her to sit down next to him and look him in the eyes. He sighed softly and blinked, focusing his hazel eyes directly on her like a hawk, a querying look filling the rest of his visage.

****

“You gonna be comfortable in those?” She eyed his jeans, causing him to look down. He looked pensive for a few seconds, then began fiddling with the button and zipper. Linda lied back, amused as he slowly undid the button and stood up shakily, looking almost as if he was going to fall down for a moment. Steadying himself on his own accord, he slid the jeans off, revealing a pair of burgundy red boxers underneath.

****

Awkwardly yanking them off and tossing them towards the nearby hamper, he dropped back onto the bed, lying straight back. Hissing and giving a soft whimper, he rolled on his side to face Linda.

****

“Better?” Linda smirked, getting a weak grunt in the positive out of him. He seemed so loaded with exhaustion, that it seemed to seep out of him and into her; his presence beside her seemed to suck the consciousness out of her. She yawned and got up, yanking on the sheets. “Get under.”

****

He pondered her order for a second, then began clumsily assisting her in getting the sheets up over him and her as she slid back into bed. She curled up next to him, leaning her back up against his torso and lied still, which seemed to be the cue for him to wrap his arms around her and doze off into unconsciousness as well.

****

“Night, Andy.” She smiled and reached up, running her fingers up through his hair and giving an affectionate scratch.

****

He clung to her tighter, burying his face in the warm and comforting space between the base of her neck and her shoulder, sighing softly. “Night.” He half-whispered, then took a deep breath, his body slumping like a sack of potatoes as he exhaled. She waited a moment, then once she was certain that he had continued breathing afterwards, she wrapped an arm around one of his and fell asleep.

****

The squawking of the alarm clock next to the bed woke Linda up, making her reach out and turn it off. She had left it on out of habit, it seemed; she had volunteered to cover the mid-late shift, allowing herself to spend more time with the almost corpse-like man still clinging tightly to her, perhaps even a bit tighter than he had been when they fell asleep.

****

He felt a lot warmer than he did last night; a sure sign he hadn’t carked in his sleep from his garish injuries glazed in a puddle of strong spirits. It was a comforting note to know he was alright, even with his breath so soft on her neck she almost believed he wasn’t breathing at all.

****

She began trying to wiggle out of Gabriel’s vice grip, making him stir and take a somber deep breath. Gabriel opened his eyes and looked around, assessing the situation at hand. His recollection was hazy at best, but Linda was wrapped up in his arms, and she seemed to want out. He moved and let her go, noting his shoulders were taped up from one side to the other.

****

_What’s going on here...? Okay, backtrack._

****

“Good morning, sunshine. You look pretty alert.”

****

_Why wouldn’t I be..._

****

Gabriel spotted the pair of shot glasses and the semi-emptied bottle of whiskey on the dresser and stopped questioning the situation.

****

_Oh great...this is gonna be one of those horrible nightmarish blackout stories isn’t it?_

****

“What happened?” Gabriel feigned a hungover look and looked up at Linda, who was up on her feet already.

****

“Well, first thing’s first. How are ya feeling?”

****

“Fine, minus the part where I’m having trouble remembering last night.” Gabriel sat up, realizing he was only in his boxers.

****

_Well alright, so second or third base, maybe..._

****

“You don’t remember anything?” Linda crossed her arms

****

“Little bits and pieces...”

****

Linda looked a bit dejected, making him nervous.

****

“Maybe I just need to walk around a bit. Maybe some fresh air...?” He got up, looking around the still-dark room for his jeans and at least one of his shirts.

****

“Sure...”

****

A light clicked. “Oh hey! Breakfast! Right.” He sauntered over to her and sat her down on the bed. “You get back in bed and relax. I’m making breakfast, remember?”

****

“Andy, your back...”

****

“Hm?” He realised her use of the word ‘your’ and clearly she was addressing the reason as to why he was all patched up like a flogging victim. “Oh. It feels alright.” He stretched his arms out and his wings sent a signal begging for him to properly stretch them as well. “Thanks for asking.”

****

“Are you alright? You can’t continue playing around about those burns, Andy.”

****

_Burns? Did I bur-...did my wings burn my vessel’s skin when they burnt off?_

****

He assessed his vessel’s condition; the burns in his back were not life-threatening, but they stung greatly when Gabriel attempted to move anything. “They still hurt, but they feel a little better.” He stepped and found his pants in the dark. He had half a mind to illuminate his halo to light up the room, or hell, whipping up a small candle to light was simple enough.

****

…But not in front of Linda. He was going to have to fumble around some more. No, first, the pants.

****

He bent over and grabbed his jeans, sitting down on the bed to put them back on. With the faintest of light sources coming from the digital clock, he spotted his red shirt and hastily put it on as well.

****

Every twitch of his shoulder blades sent a twinge through his wings trapped within his vessel; they had been curled up and withered within him all night it seemed. Nudges from underneath his burns were painfully good signs; his primaries had already begun to grow back in, it seemed, and if he was covered in burns they were likely the source.

****

He looked back at Linda and gave a warm smile; a little flicker of last night clicked on; he had been filled to the brim with a terrifying mix of lust, self-loathing, and an alcoholic haze, and in his ordeal he had kissed her to thank her for putting up with him. Man, he was perpetually screwed. He could only imagine how badly the rest of it went.

****

“I’m gonna head outside and take the sights in; you don’t get this kind of view out east.”

****

“Been traveling a lot again?”

****

“The east coast is nice this time of year, mostly up north. Lots of snowbirds coming back up and all the tourist traps trying to lure them in. Nice deals.” He stood up, brushing his shirt down with his hands. “I’ll be right in to make you those pancakes.” He winked and walked out of the room, quietly closing the door behind him and exiting outside through the front door.

****

His partially-replenished Grace quivered in anticipation to be exercised, and his vessel was joyous over the closeness and affection Linda had for Gabriel. It was a wonderful mix of feelings to start the day off with, really. Using the guardrail on the small porch to climb up to the roof, he settled over the master bedroom to put the only window in a blind spot, sitting down on his lower legs in a kneeling position. He typically did not stretch his wings out of habit; whipping out the big ol’ featheries in front of the pagan gods was something he couldn’t ever afford to do while under the self-imposed witness protection he had been in for eons. The area was devoid of any for the time being, and most everyone was asleep in town.

****

He displaced his vessel's vocal chords for the moment, knowing full and well this was going to hurt far past his threshold for pain, let alone his vessel’s, given his still-fresh primaries were going to have to pass through celestially damaged tissue. This was going to hurt the both of them.

****

He cautiously unfurled his secondary and tertiary wings first, the upper secondary wings grazing the burnt skin and sending needles of pain through his vessel. He hissed and clung to his knees, leaning forwards in the hopes that the action would make it hurt less. It didn't, but it did aid in letting the slightly wider upper wings slide through his vessel's skin easier.

****

For the briefest of moments the two sets were visible, his lower tertiary wings breaking nearly 10 feet in full span and grazing the top of the roof, his looming secondaries arcing around his shoulders before flapping roughly, discarding several loose mottled gold-brown feathers that melted into non-existence as they floated to the earth.

****

A few more shakes and every loose feather that was going to fall out of its own volition had fallen, Gabriel took a deep breath and gently flexed his primaries. A slight inching of the primaries, grazing them against the damaged skin, sending shocks of pain through his vessel’s body. An initial pain to numb the final press he would have to make to stretch them out. A few more taps against the flesh for good measure, and then the big and quick release before the skin had time to recover, like hopping into a cold pool all at once.

****

He gasped and dug his fingers into the flesh around his knees and, as predicted, he tried to scream. Sharp razored edges of Grace sliced against the skin as it materialized, forming into six feet-long brown and gold-mottled fledgling raven wings, tight-skinned with feathers fully sheathed in Grace-made keratin. They had a bit of growing to do, but the fact that they had grown back so much in such a short amount of time was impressive. Sleep did him far more good than he thought it would.

****

With the boozy haze of the night previous bubbling away, he began rifling through his memories, turning red from embarrassment. He had really let himself float on those waves of whiskey and feelings, hadn’t he? Well, at least he knew she was genuinely, and perhaps foolishly, still enamoured over him from that one little harmless trick he played that saved her a night of harassment, and the few months time he spent shambling around her place plotting his next publicly displayed life lesson about why being a dick isn’t good for your health.

****

He bent his left wing around carefully observing it. The chocolate brown feathers had just started to get their little swirls and spots and streak of gold; very freshly regrown indeed. He cradled the still weakened wing steady with his left arm and began gently running his right hand through his feathers, cracking the keratin sheaths.

****

He hadn’t needed to do such an extensive preening session since he was but a fledgling; it all felt a bit awkward and slightly embarrassing, even if there wasn’t a single supernatural, or even basic mortal, creature wandering about to criticize him.

****

Letting go of the wing, he flapped it several times, thousands of fiery flickering fragments of Grace flying through the darkness as it fluttered. The brightness was far more minimal than he believed it would be, but the flickering flames still illuminated a sizeable bit of the area. He hoped Linda hadn’t noticed.

****

Right! Breakfast!

****

He quickened his pace with his right wing, freeing his feathers from the sheaths with rougher flutterings, rocketing Grace sheaths down the length of the Faulkner's trailer. They sunk into the cold ground, leaving faint signs of rejuvenated soil in their descent. Stretching his wings and holding them out to as far as they could reach, he took a few deep breaths and pulled all his wings back in, tucking them within the safety and security of his vessel.

****

With a single hope in mind that his wings would quickly grow back to their proper length, he slid off the roof and fell to the ground on two feet, dusting himself off and walking back inside.

****

Walking back in, he spotted Amber looking around, highly confused.

****

“Did you hear something?” She looked at Gabriel in a concerned manner.

****

“No. Did you?”

****

Amber looked away, questioning herself as she began to walk to the bathroom.

****

Gabriel shrugged away the odd questioning and moseyed into the kitchen. The house was relatively devoid of food, now that he was taking an inventory. Sure they had the milk and the eggs and the flour and the cooking oil, but there wasn’t even a proper supply of fudge pops in the freezer, fresh fruits in the fridge, or even canned fruit in the pantry. Hell, not even a few boxes of cheap gelatin.

****

Then again, there wasn’t much of anything most humans ate; a few canned vegetables, some home-canned pickled whatevers in mason jars, a can of chili, a few sports drinks in the fridge, and what looked like a small mountain of small unmarked candy bars in the cabinet over the stove.

****

Gabriel grabbed a nearby apron and secured it tightly before grabbing all the necessary ingredients and mixing them. He felt determined to have everything going by the time Amber left the shower.

****

Linda walked out from the bedroom just as he began frying up the first pancake in the batch.

****

“Hey, this is breakfast in bed! Get back to bed.”

****

“I’m just coming out to see the progress, is all.” She smirked, walking over to his side and inspecting.

****

“I admit, I haven’t done this in a while; the cooking at home thing. So, uh...little nervous.”

****

Linda smirked, then reached over the stove and grabbed a box of toothpicks. “They’re done when you poke it and it comes out clean.”

****

Gabriel took the toothpick and smiled, leaning closer and giving a light pecking kiss on her cheek as a thank you. He felt a little disappointed; the internal reaction he felt was nowhere near as powerful as it had been last night. He was hoping the effects of inebriation, at least in that aspect, had remained. Apparently not. Maybe it just wasn’t a long enough kiss this time. ...Later, when he wasn’t cooking.

****

"I wish I had done this more often back in the day," Gabriel took a toothpick and poked at the pancake; it needed to be flipped. Lifting the pan up and giving it a soft flick, the pancake landed perfectly on the other side. "this is actually really relaxing and...homey." A warm smile spread across his face. "I don't get a lot of homey moments where I can relax like this, with a lovely lady to my side and an equally lovely young lady who's equally as cantankerous getting her day started or whatever."

****

"I'm surprised she didn't go to track practice today." Linda grabbed a plate for Gabriel, setting it on the nearby countertop. After checking the pancake again, he seemed satisfied with the result and plated the well-done pancake. He spotted Linda going through the utensil drawer he grabbed her wrist, catching her attention.

****

"Wait a minute now. Not until they're all done, got it?"

****

"Fine..." Linda sighed and gave him a soft peck on the lips. "I'll go back to bed..."

****

"Good!" Gabriel grinned and waited for her to close the door. He then conjured up a pair of small vases with well-pruned flowers in them, and spatially shifted some of the things in the back of his trunk into the house, hoping things wouldn't be questioned all that much.

****

After cooking up half of the rest of the batter, he detected Amber standing around the corner, seemingly peering at him. He stopped carefully observing the pancake and turned around slightly.

****

"Hi there." He smiled softly. She looked half-terrified, half annoyed. "You like pancakes?"

****

Her gaze shifted to the flowers; one small vase was filled with honeysuckle clusters, the other with bright orange-red gladiolus blooms which had been separated from their tall stalks and arranged into single flower placements.

****

"Are you allergic to pollen?"  Gabriel tried to hide a smirk.

****

Amber simply scampered into her room silently, making Gabriel sigh deeply. Maybe a nice warm homemade breakfast would make her less freaked out by him. He contemplated holding off on his playful prank retribution, but then decided to continue on with it; maybe she would be more mellow after a good-natured bout of harmless pranks.

****

Setting up an illusion of leaving the house momentarily to prevent suspicion, he conjured up two small meal trays with folding legs and waited for the illusion to run its course. He conjured up a bottle of strawberry syrup, set it on the tray next to the little pot with the honeysuckles, then walked into Linda's room. She was already sitting upright in bed, and she smiled when she spotted the flowers.

****

"Rise and shine~" He smiled widely, setting the tray down over her lap.

****

"These flowers are beautiful...where did you get them?"

****

"Don't ask. Just enjoy." He smirked, leaning forwards and kissing her warmly. He held in place, feeling the amourous sensation of excitement flutter and melt through his vessel in a secondhand sense, making him a touch jealous of the guy for the moments that passed before he pulled back, admiring the look of bliss in Linda's visage.  His fingers teased down her neck as he pulled away with a smirk, adding a blush to her gorgeous face and a slight shiver across her shoulders.

****

He smirked and eyed the plate, looking back at her. "This is still missing something. Hold on."

****

He walked out to Amber's room and knocked on the door. She answered her door, quickly giving a grimace.

****

"Hey don't kill the messenger now. Your mom wants to talk to you in her room."

****

She exhaled in an angry tone and walked out of her bedroom, and he waited until he was completely in her blind spot to assemble the second tray, paying attention to the gladiolus vase as he walked.

****

"What do you want?" Amber barked as Gabriel made his way in the room.

****

"She wants you to hop up next to her and eat, that's what." He lightly nudged her with the edge of the tray, make her turn around and look at him. The bright orange gladiolus flowers caught her eye before the pile of pancakes on the plate did, and she looked him in the eyes, confused. “Okay, it was a little white lie; I wanted you to come in and have breakfast with us. But would you have come in if I asked?”

****

Linda patted the empty space of mattress next to her, and Amber begrudgingly sat down next to Linda. Gabriel smiled softly, setting the tray down over her.

****

As she looked over the plate with a sense of wonder filling her features, Gabriel thought of the best thing to put her sense of delight over the top. He summoned a travel-sized bottle of maple syrup from his hidden cache and placed it in his pants pocket as he got up, then walked out and grabbed his own plate of pancakes from the kitchen.

****

He then sat down on the end of the bed, cross-legged with the plate in his lap, and took the bottle out of his pocket, opening it and pouring some out onto his pancakes. He looked up at Amber, who hadn’t taken the strawberry syrup from Linda’s tray and was eying the maple syrup bottle instead. He looked at the bottle, then back at Amber, then set the bottle down in front of her on the tray.

****

“You like it? I haven’t opened it yet. Got it as a souvenir in the Adirondacks a few years ago; that stuff’s the real deal. Either of you ever been?”

****

“No. Where’s that?” Linda grinned at Amber’s response, then began digging into her strawberry syrup-covered pancakes, enjoying the friendly banter between the two.

****

“New York. Up in the big part, with all the rivers and mountains, not the little island part.”

****

“You’ve been to New York?” She tilted her head to the side in curiosity, holding the bottle out to him.

****

He pushed the outstretched hand back towards her. “No, give it a try.” She carefully opened it and poured a small amount on top of the pancake stack. “And to answer your question, I’ve been all over the country by now, I think, and in Canada too. Traveling is exhilarating.”

****

“Why would you come here?”

****

Gabriel had no clue how to answer; he still had little to no idea what he had been dropped here for, other than the fact that the Winchesters were nearby working some sort of case he was hoping had something to do with the Leviathan problem. He could always use a hand, or a handy chewtoy, if things went belly-up. His only good response was literally in front of him.

****

“Well, at first I thought it was a strange and happy accident, but I think it-” He smirked, slowly looking up towards the ceiling. “it was a sign that I should...stop.”

****

“Stop?” Amber blinked as Gabriel looked back at her.

****

“Stop running and enjoy nice things for once.” He smirked, resisting the urge to pat her on the head in a doting manner. "Now eat your pancakes before they get cold. I didn't go out of my way to home make those just so you could waste them."

****

Amber began to eat the top pancake in silence, staring intently at the gladiolus from time to time. Gabriel smiled and began to eat silently as well, enjoying the first quiet meal shared with others in as far as he could remember.

****

After a few moments, Amber spoke up. "So how'd you get the flowers?"

****

Gabriel looked up. As much as he was inclined to zap the question out of her head and make her blissfully unaware of anything weird, he decided to humor her. He set his fork in his pancake stack and sighed.

****

"Alright, alright, I went out and got this whole setup yesterday. I totally planned all beforehand."

****

"How come they look fresh if they've been sitting in your car all night?"

****

Gabriel gave a slight frown. "You ask too many questions."

****

Amber smirked and ate another bite of pancake.

****

Linda finished up shortly after their exchange, smiling. "This was absolutely wonderful, Andrew. Very sweet of you to do this."

****

"Hey, don't mention it. You two ladies are saints for helping me out; it's the least I can do."

****

Pulling his fork out of his short stack, Gabriel gave a small smirk as Amber rolled her eyes at him. She was trying hard to dislike him now, wasn't she?

****

Over in Edgerton, Dean and Sam munched down on takeout pie and bacon in their hotel room, Sam intently reading the Casper Star-Tribune.

****

“Anything good today?” Dean queried.

****

“I found something weird.”

****

“How weird we talkin?”

****

Sam leaned the paper down, giving Dean a mildly amused look. “A pack of unidentified pitbulls attacked and apparently ate an employee of a steakhouse whole last night, and nobody knows how the hell the dogs got there.”

****

Dean dropped the piece of bacon and turned to face Sam.

****

“And it gets better. The only remains that can even prove anything happened? A small puddle of black oily residue.”

****

“A Leviathan. A bunch of rabid dogs ate a Leviathan.” Dean gave an astounded look as he set his plate down and left the bed to sit down next to Sam. “When did this happen?”

****

“Last night, during dinnertime. Just out of the blue, see?” Sam pointed to the area of the paper and Dean examined it.

****

“So a bunch of dogs ganked a Leviathan. Huh.” He gave a look of amusement to Sam, then read on. “This sounds like we’re not the only things around here that don’t like them bigmouthed assholes wandering around town."

****

"Yeah, but who? What?”

****

“What’s the name?” Dean took over the laptop, beginning to start up his hack procedures.

****

“Prairie Rose Steakhouse, off of Cy Ave on Wolf Creek.”

****

“Got it.” Dean typed away, quickly accessing security info. “Looks like this place’s pretty high-tech for a froo-froo hole in the wall.” Dean raised an eyebrow. “Huh, nobody’s removed the footage from last night off their systems. Here we go.” He looked to Sam, slyly smirking. “What time did the employee get ganked?”

****

“Around quarter to 10.”

****

Dean flipped through the footage, finding the dogs quickly from a camera in the parking lot. A look of mild nausea filled his face as he watched the dogs tear the woman apart, then looked away to study the patrons inside. His eyes widened when he spotted a trio of patrons in particular.

****

“Son of a bitch.” Sam looked over as Dean pointed out the trio. “Look who was there last night.”

****

“Gabriel.” Sam sighed, looking entirely overcome by the information.

****

“And that’s the girl with him, the Amber kid.” Dean smirked.

****

“And the waitress too!”

****

Dean fixated on Gabriel for a moment, leaning in slightly to inspect him, cocking an eyebrow.

****

“Rewind it a bit, Dean.”

****

“Why?”

****

“Well, if it’s Gabriel...he would have caused some sort of disturbances with his angel mojo, right?”

****

“Yeah.”

****

“I...I just wanna make sure.”

****

“Fine.”

****

Rewinding back, he started the tape as Gabriel and the Faulkners arrived.

****

“So they’re all in one big package, huh?”

****

“He must’ve gotten the jump on us. How long’s he been here?”

****

“He can’t have gotten the jump on us Sam,” Dean frowned slightly. “Frank just called me last night, and it was a hot item even for him.”

****

“Coincidences like this don’t just happen coincidentally, Dean. Especially if this is actually Gabriel. How many times has he been a million steps ahead of us, Dean?”

****

The waitress arrived, and Gabriel’s reaction confused both of them.

****

“Well he sure as hell didn’t expect her, from the look of it.”

****

“So what’s he doing with them if he doesn’t know Amber is one of the kids we’re investigating?”

****

“Puttin’ on a show? The waitress is a looker.” Dean gave his flirty grin and Sam sighed in response.

****

They continued watching in fast-forward, noting the waitress constantly flashing Gabriel looks.

****

“Okay, so we know they know a little something about each other...and there she goes with the garbage and-”

****

Dean and Sam both jumped slightly as the cameras flickered and distorted around what seemed to be a constantly moving blur of static, and as it approached the waitress, she stopped. Then suddenly, within a second’s time, the woman had gone from holding the garbage bag, to standing twenty feet from her old position, a blood spatter across the ground from what looked like a failed decapitation, and the pack of wild dogs snarling at her right before they jumped on her.

****

“Yeah, no, there’s no way it’s not him.” Sam muttered.

****

Dean grimaced. “SON OF A BITCH!” He shot up out of his chair in anger, knocking it back as he began to walk away from the table. He began stroking the lower half of his face as millions of different thoughts and theories raced through his mind.

****

Sam began to mull things over in his mind as Dean fumed. "Maybe he's trying to make things easier for us, Dean. Maybe he knows something is up and is just trying to help!"

****

"How about showing up when, when you tossed yourself in the cage? How about him not stepping up when Raphael and Cas had their little war, huh? If he cares about his family so much he could have stopped them from that and Cas would still be alive!" Dean was doing his best to keep his composure, but it was an inconvenient truth that he knew he couldn’t stand for. If Sam had any sort of logic node running at the moment, he would agree.

****

Sam took a breath, trying to dispel Dean’s cloud of rage from around him. He refused to believe that Gabriel would hang them out to dry like this. Gabriel owed them for helping him save Kali and protecting the precious Casa Erotica tape with him in it for long after it was needed. He was capricious, sure, but this was something he had to have latched to...maybe. Maybe opposing Dean’s view would help them come to a median of truth. "He just runs around on his own, Dean! Maybe he's not paying attention to all this Heaven crap, maybe he's as sick of it as we are!"

****

Dean sneered, pacing around. "Oh but he can show up to bitch at us to just throw our lives away for his family's slap fight?"

****

Sam flinched at Dean’s words; he was oversimplifying Gabriel just to attack him now and remove himself from the blame. "The last time we saw him, he saved our lives and took Lucifer on because you goaded him to!"

****

"I'm the goader now?!" Sam could almost see the vein twitching in Dean’s forehead.

****

"I'm just saying, Dean...maybe he's off on a new 'witness protection' thing out here in the middle of nowhere; this doesn't seem his kind of locale anyways. I mean, he clearly wasn't expecting that Leviathan to show up, so maybe they haven't been on his radar yet. Those things have been lying pretty damn low so far, so can we just give him the benefit of the doubt that maybe he's been on a nice long vacation since the Apocalypse?"

****

Dean’s blood pressure dropped, the venting having been cathartic to a point. But he wasn’t letting that feathered dick go on that, not after the hell he had raised about stopping his family from ganking itself back in his little TV Land. "I'm not gonna let this slide. There is no way that he didn't have a damn clue about that goddamn Ninja Turtle dickbag taking over Daddy's seat!"

****

“Maybe he just doesn’t care anymore, I mean, he said it. He just wants them to stop fighting. Maybe he just saw that it wasn’t stopping and said to hell with them.”

****

“Now you’re just making excuses for him, Sammy.”

****

"I just wanna hear his side before we blame him for everything."

****

"Fine, so we gotta smoke 'em out." Dean sighed. "But now we know there's Leviathan activity here, so Frank might be onto something. Let's go back to town and get those other girls checked out while we're at it."


	4. Conduct II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II: Gabriel takes drastic measures to nurture and protect the girls, and it backfires in the worst ways possible. The Winchesters attempt to befriend and recruit Gabriel after a peculiar incident. The Leviathans of Midwest begin taking more forceful actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Again, sorry for the long wait, but here's the second half. :3 Enjoy~)

Gabriel, preferring to spend time with Linda on his own, sent a shade to keep track of Amber while she was at school, and to alert him to the best time to play a few pranks on her. After a morning of surprisingly cozy domestic bliss filled with housework and kisses, the little shade’s alarm rattled as Amber made her way out of her last morning session and on towards the cafeteria.

 

Sparing no expense of power to flawlessly stop time and properly swap between the shade and his position, dispelling the obsolete creature, then placing a shadow double to replace his now-empty place in the house, he rendered himself invisible and began to follow Amber along the halls of the school, keeping a far enough distance away to not get hit with anything he was about to toss her way.

 

He immediately spotted a demon down the hallway; as much as smiting came naturally to him, the wimpy looking devil was none of his concern so long as he didn’t bother Amber. He was alerted to the presence of two mysteriously empty spaces alongside two Leviathans nearby; as the two passed the library, he spotted Dean and Sam investigating two young girls. The Leviathans looked over towards him for a brief second, as if letting him know that they could smell his Grace through the walls. He sneered at them, hoping they could see him as he went back to tailing Amber.

****

Up ahead he spotted her approaching a water fountain.

****

_That's such a classic! Can't pass it up._

****

As she leaned down to drink, he snapped his fingers, jacking up the water pressure to its highest tolerance mere moments before she pressed the button down. The water shot out and hit her in the forehead full force, drenching her face near instantly. She jerked back and released the button, causing a scene and several of her peers to snicker at her misfortune.

****

Gabriel smiled; it was a perfect execution. At least death hadn't wrecked his comedic timing.

****

"What the hell?!" Amber stared in shock and cautiously tried again, getting the same result. He smirked and watched as she began trying to dry her face off with her sweatshirt.

****

She growled and took her sweatshirt off, wrapping it around her waist as she marched towards the cafeteria. Gabriel continued shadowing her, keeping a mental tab on where the Leviathans were and how many demons he was running into. It was a small band of the lot of them; apparently Wyoming was a great place to be if you were a brand new devil spawn. Not a lot of nosy cops, he figured.

****

Spotting a third grader with a demon hitching a ride was slightly disturbing and concerning; Gabriel made an effort to glean info off the kid about his living arrangement for future use, should he get some free time.

****

Amber dug several dollar bills out of her pocket as she walked into the cafeteria. Gabriel observed several of the other girls from the track team approaching her, asking her about her soaked state as she began sliding the bills in the soda machine. Gabriel grinned as she approached the table with the soda in hand; a chance to possibly soak several girls at once was too good to pass up, if it meant a little more trouble for Amber.

****

He felt mildly guilty as she sat down in the middle of the group, and a bit more so as the youngest girl leaned over to give her a fresh hoodie.

****

With a snap as Amber began twisting the cap off the soda bottle, and the carbonation rapidly reached levels beyond the bottle's capability to contain any of it. The soda shot the cap off and sprayed violently in a twirling fountain of foam, hitting Amber and several of the girls around her.

****

A cacophony of screams and flailing limbs flooded from the epicenter of the literal soda fountain, and Gabriel had to stifle a hearty laugh to avoid knocking over a nearby 8th grader. He was invisible, but still partially tangible.

****

The morbid look on Amber's face amused him, to his surprise, far more than most of his more current victims' looks of surprise and terror. He pondered for a quick moment if he should stick to strictly non-lethal pranks from now on, then quickly dismissed it. Hoisting people on their own petards with a little ironic smiting was never going to get old to him.

****

Amber jumped up in terror, her face bright red with embarrassment. "WHAT THE FUCK?!" She stared at the bottle in a mix of fear and anger, unsure how to engage the situation.

****

"Amber, why'd you shake it up that much?!" A girl to her right shouted, grabbing her napkin to wipe her face and shirt off.

****

"I didn't do anything!" Amber protested, eyes locked on the bottle still.

****

"Bottles don't just explode Amber!"

****

"I didn't do it though!" Amber grew frustrated.

****

"This was a pretty crappy prank, Amber..." Another girl sitting across from where Amber had been flatly chastised her, dabbing soda off her hoodie.

****

“I didn’t do it! Seriously!”

****

“Well soda bottles don’t just explode like magic!”

****

“I didn’t do it...”

****

_Oh man, this is too much..._

****

Amber huffed and stared at the bottle, too upset to think of what to do. Deciding that leaving for a breather was the best option, she made her way through the group and out a side door, turning red from embarrassment.

****

_Okay, one last one, for the hat trick._

****

Gabriel followed her out, diving into the girl's room as she began taking deep breaths to calm down. He knew exactly the best thing to do, but decided to take a touch of pity upon her at his vessel's request. Well, it was less of a request, and more that the death grip his vessel's soul typically had on his Grace had intensified to semi-unbearable levels, locking him in a feeling somewhere between remorse and agony. He'd have to do this last one with kid gloves on, apparently.

****

She took a few breaths and took her track hoodie off, dropping it in the sink in preparation to try and wash it. As she reached for the handle, Gabriel weakened the structural integrity of the faucet's base with a quick snap.

****

One crank of the handle and the faucet was soaring towards the toilet stall behind her at a high arc.

****

She screamed, crouching and turning bright red while clutching the sides of her head. After a minute, she began standing up, the look in her face displaying utter misery. She turned off the faucet and took a few breaths before clenching to the sink and shaking, turning a brighter red as her eyes filled up with tears.

****

The wobbly rivers in her eyes put his vessel in a fit; Gabriel actually had to fight the faint urge to reach out and pull her into a hug, partially because he didn't care feel quite the same way his vessel felt and mostly because it would ruin everything and expose him as some creepy middle-aged looking man sitting in a girl's bathroom watching a high school senior have a breakdown and that wasn't good for anyone.

****

After a short minute of silent sobbing, she swallowed her misery down and wiped her face with paper towels, grabbing her soaked hoodie from the sink and ringing it out in a defeated manner. She was far tougher than he imagined she would be after a volley like he had tossed at her, and she certainly bounced back faster than expected. He needed to whip up something nice for her for dinner.

****

Speaking of food...he was craving some massive sugary delights pretty badly; leaning heavily on his Trickster magic was really burning through his energy reserves. He frowned as he followed the pathetic-looking Amber out of the bathroom and down the hall.

****

A girl from the table approached her outside the cafeteria "You okay, Amber?"

****

"I'm gonna just cut the rest of classes. I'm soaked and tired."

****

"You want me to drive you home?" She wrapped her arm around Amber's shoulders.

****

"Nah. I'll walk."

****

"You sure?"

****

Amber gave a weak smile as they walked to the locker hall. "Yeah, maybe I'll dry off on the way there."

****

"Alright." A good hearty slap on her back, and the girl was back on her way to the cafeteria.

****

The fellow track team girl smiled and patted her back. Around the corner, Dean and Sam followed Sarah and Carrie as Amber opened her locker. Both Carrie and Sarah began staring off to the right of Amber, piquing Dean's curiosity.

****

"Hey there Miss Faulkner," Dean smiled, catching her attention. She looked up at him, and her tear-stained face threw him off. "whoa you okay?"

****

"Just a bad day."

****

"You want some help?" Carrie queried.

****

There wasn't a single chance in hell Gabriel was letting those Leviathans get their jaws on her. He hadn't yet made her feel better yet. He paused time temporarily to think, weighing his options. There were a few routes to take, most of them far more trouble than they were worth. But one...was merely tricky with technique. That was going to have to do.

****

He grabbed the back of her neck, taking a deep focusing breath before restoring time.

****

Amber closed her eyes for a few moments, then focused and narrowed her gaze on Carrie, her honey-colored eyes filled with a strange malice.

****

"No, I don't need your help. I can handle myself just fine. I just wanna go home."

****

Sam and Dean side-glanced each other, then Dean stepped forwards.

****

"You look a little wet. Would you like a ride home?"

****

Amber looked at Dean, blinking a few times. "Sure." A bright smile filled her face. "In fact, please."

****

She reached into her locker and grabbed her backpack, then slammed the door and approached Dean, making a point to walk around Carrie and Sarah.

 

**Holy mood swings, Bunk Buddy! Aren’t they supposed to be friends?**

****

Sam focused on Amber, giving Carrie and Sarah a small goodbye nod as he and Dean escorted Amber out.

****

“So, did you take a dunk in the lap pool?” Dean asked her as they began walking out of the building.

****

“Nope, just some harmless pranks.”

****

“Are you alright? You look upset.” Sam began digging through a coat pocket.

****

“I’m fine. How about you? You sleeping much?”

****

**Something’s up in her melon, I’m telling you. She’s got a weird look in her eyes, you know that look all too well, don’t you?**

****

"He's been working his tail off trying to impress our bosses back east," Dean chimed in. "that's why I'm here; to make sure he's upright." A sly grin spread across his face as he looked forwards towards the doors.

****

"Hey!" The group turned to face a hall monitor, who was walking towards them at a rapid pace. "You taking her with you, officers?"

****

"We are, sir." Dean gave a slick grin.

****

The monitor stopped and took a few breaths to regain composure from the jog over. "Okay, you sign her out yet?"

****

"Uh, not yet. We assumed the sign-out form is in the principal's office; we're taking a shortcut there right now." Sam gave a wide, close-mouthed grin, placating the monitor.

****

After the brief encounter and subsequent sign out of Amber, the trio were on their way to the car. She spotted the Cougar and gave a baffled look at the vehicle, then a concerned look to Sam, then a worried look back at the vehicle.

****

Sam opened the back door for Amber and she awkwardly got in. Lucifer perked up and poked Sam’s shoulder.

****

**Ya know what, Sammy? You’re too kind.**

****

Sam huffed, then got in the passenger seat.

****

Amber sat quietly as Dean started the car, her right hand twitching in her lap.

****

**She should get that looked at...**

****

Sam looked back at Amber, smiling. “You feeling better now?”

****

“I need...dry...”

****

“I’ll get’er a blanket from the trunk.” Dean got out and dug through the trunk, getting his travel blanket out from the trunk. Sam looked back at her; she was starting to look pale and sickly.

****

**Well well...she's getting green in the gills.**

****

Dean opened the back door and wrapped the blanket around her tightly. "You feeling okay...?"

****

"Bring...me...h-home..." Amber's right wrist and fingers spasmed as she looked over at Dean. Her eyes fluttered and closed, and as her wrist snapped back and fingers stretched out to full openness, she slumped unconsciously onto Dean.

****

“Whoa! Okay, ugh...” Dean steadied himself as he supported her sudden heavy weight against him. Checking her pulse and her breath, a tiny shred of relief filled him when she registered as being weak yet stable.

****

Dean looked to Sam as he contemplated his next move. "Well, she looks alright. Think we should bring her home?"

****

"Her house is the only one we haven't hit yet. Might as well."

****

Across town, the couch in the Faulkner’s residence was suddenly occupied, creaking under the weight of the self-teleported occupant.

****

Gabriel whimpered and groaned, nausea filling him and his right arm internally ablaze. He sat up slowly, trying to placate his vessel’s unhinged reactions which were only serving to make him feel worse.

****

His wrist violently convulsed, the muscles and nerves severely damaged from his exertion. The temporary vocal bond was apparently not a workaround that was sustainable between two living bodies; between a dead nun and an incorporeal spirit miles beneath the earth, sure, but between two planks of living flesh? Apparently not.

****

His right arm was marred with red lines branching from a point dead-center in his palm. A design akin to a lightning strike was burned into the flesh from halfway up his forearm to the tips of his fingers. He forced almost all of the remaining small fragments of his Grace to repair the neurovascular damage. The convulsions in his wrist and fingers diminished until they ceased entirely, the pain leaving along with them.

****

However, he felt himself hit the wall of his Grace’s reserves as he began to heal the superficial damage, and decided it was best to simply let it be for now. He had to find a way to cover the injury up, though. An idea crossed his mind, and while fighting a full body exhaustion, he stumbled through the house and dropped in front of Linda’s bed. He fished out her medical bag and pulled himself up onto the end of the bed.

****

Just as he retrieved the gauze, he heard a car pull up outside. A wave of fear increased his nausea, and he struggled to hold the bile down as he got up. He had to think fast as knocks thunked against the front door.

****

Feeling far too physically drained from his earlier exertions to be able to maintain a full body shadow or even a shapeshift for longer than a few minutes. He needed a simple scenario. He could probably manage that.

****

Splattering blood around the kitchen countertop and adding a bloody knife and semi-opened bag of something or other with its label flipped over because simply couldn’t muster up the thought to label it, he then manifested blood in the gauze and all over his hand before getting off the bed and approaching the door, opening it exasperatedly.

****

"Can I-" Dean's eyes went wide at the sight of Gabriel, giving Gabriel an opening to raise an eyebrow at him. "...help you?”

****

Dean pulled his ID badge from his coat and briefly flashed it. Gabriel responded with alarm.

****

"I'm sorry, officer," he pulled back from the door, showing a touch of shock in his visage. Faking facial expressions was a pretty simple trick, and yet somehow it was always effective; he could tell that Dean was slowly starting to buy it himself. "What can I help you with?"

****

"Are you the father of Amber Faulkner?"

****

Gabriel pulled back slightly, a look of shock and confusion painted on his face. "No, man, I'm just the boyfriend." Gabriel chuckled, then gave a concerned look. "Why do you ask?"

****

Dean leaned back, giving Gabriel a good look of Sam carefully shuffling Amber out of the back, all wrapped up in the blanket.

****

Gabriel's eyes widened, a genuine distraught look painted on his face. “What happened?”

****

Dean poked his head in and looked around. "Is Ms. Faulkner home, by any chance?"

****

"She left a couple minutes ago. You want me to call her?"

****

"Please?"

****

Gabriel rolled his eyes and sighed, trying to find his cell phone with just his left hand. Digging it out of his pants pocket and handing it to Dean, Gabriel gave him a less than amused look as Sam approached with Amber in tow.

****

"She's the last number I called," Gabriel commented, smiling. As Dean walked away, Gabriel muttered to himself under his breath. "...don't need you suits digging through my phone book..."

****

He sighed deeply, then looked up at Sam, giving a slightly deflated look. "So what are you gonna do with her now, huh?"

****

Sam gave a look. "Sorry?"

****

"Your partner with the third degree. Won't tell me a damn thing about Amber. Is she alright, at least?"

****

"We checked her out. It looks like she just passed out."

****

"Okay, well," Gabriel glared in Dean's direction. "He'd better tell Linda that or he's gonna one hell of a pissed off son of a bitch to deal with," he smirked. "and then he'll have to deal with her."

****

"So you're just a guest here, then?"

****

"More or less." Gabriel held out his left hand for a shake. "Andrew Fiamma. Sorry I'm not in a better mood."

****

Sam leaned and took Gabriel's hand, giving a soft shake. "That's fine. Someone mildly pissed off at my partner is honestly the least horrible situation we've walked into these days." Sam smiled.

****

Gabriel shoved both hands into his pants pockets. "So I heard you guys are here on some witch hunt?"

****

"Can't quite talk about our business, sorry."

****

"Well, would you mind telling me why Amber's with you guys?"

****

"Sorry, no can do."

****

Gabriel sighed, looking away. "Right, super secret government shit involving 17 year olds; not perverted or creepy at all..." Gabriel jovially poked at Sam, smirking. "Especially considering she's drenched."

****

**Well well Sammy, take a peek at the slasher movie scene in the trailer. Hooboy, you wanna leave a kid with him?**

****

Sam looked down and made note of the arm wrap, then looked Gabriel in the face. "So what's going on in the house?"

****

"If I can't be told about Amber's condition, you're gonna need a warrant to investigate the premises." Gabriel smugly grinned.

****

Sam smirked back. "Fair enough."

****

Dean walked back, handing Gabriel his cellphone back. "Alright, Ms. Faulkner has given us permission to leave the girl here with this gentleman."

****

"Did she give you permission to tell me what in the hell is going on?"

****

"It's need to know." Dean gave Gabriel a serious look, and all the archangel could find him doing was channel his rage. He had had enough. He looked up to Sam with a bitchface to see if the giant moosey fluffball would stop him. After a momentary look with no resistance, he launched at Dean, grabbing his jacket lapels and pulling him closer until Dean was eye level with him.

****

Painting his exhausted visage in a mask of archangelic serene fury with murder-bent eyes, the archangel’s hazel gaze pierced deep into Dean's eyes and hovered his focus somewhere mid-hypothalamus.

****

"What I **need to know** is whether or not I need to have Casper General Hospital on speed dial, you self-important dick. I don't know what kind of condition you found her in unless you tell me. And let me tell you, if I have to go down there with her, I'll be mailing her medical bills to your boss with your badge number attached and a not-so-pleasant lawsuit attached for child negligence."

****

He shoved Dean back, then looked between the two of them. "I've been more than cordial given what you've given me, so here's what's gonna happen. The giant hippie to my left's gonna bring Amber inside, you're gonna tell me what happened to her and why you have her in the first place, and then you're both going to leave me and her alone. Ya got that?"

****

Dean adjusted his lapels, weighing his options. Gabriel or not-Gabriel, this guy seemed to see right through them about as well as Amber could, and he appeared to be calling their bluff. He seemed to have no choice at this point. He looked over to Sam, and gave a quick head-nod towards the door.

****

"Excuse me, Mr. Fiamma." Sam smiled as Gabriel let them in.

****

Gabriel walked into the division between kitchen and living room as Sam slowly carried Amber in, laying her down on the couch.

****

"So. What did you do you to the kid?" Gabriel turned to face Dean, removing his veil of rage and replacing it with genuine exhaustion and concern.

****

"We met her and she was already all soaked like that. We attempted to have a follow-up with he-"

****

Gabriel's eyes widened. "Whoa wait, a follow up? You're investigating her?"

****

"We believe she might be a key witness in our investigation. She's not in any trouble, but we'd like to ask her a few questions to corroborate what we have uncovered since our first chat with her.." Sam interjected as he tucked a pillow underneath Amber's head.

****

"And does Linda know about this? Because I haven't heard about this and I know for damn sure if Linda knew you two suits were interrogating Amber, the two of them would definitely be talking about it." Gabriel folded his arms down on the counter and leaned forwards.

****

"We informed her," Dean crossed his arms and adjusted his stance to one of more authority. "and we will still need our follow-up with Amber."

****

"Of course. I can take the number and give it to her when she wakes up."

****

Sam wrote his number down in his notepad and ripped it out, handing it to Gabriel. "Have her call us whenever she wakes up and is ready to continue talking with us."

****

"Got it." He gave a quick smile and pocketed the slip of paper.

****

"You alright?" Sam eyed Gabriel's arm, then the mock accident behind him.

****

Gabriel followed his gaze, then looked back. "Oh that?" He smirked. "It looks worse than it is."

****

"Okay, just asking." Sam held his hands up and pulled back away from Gabriel.

****

"I'll be fine. You two, however, have officially overstayed your welcome."

****

"We expect to hear from her soon." Dean commented as both he and Sam began to turn towards the door.

****

Gabriel glared at the back of Dean's head. "You'll hear from her when she's good and ready to talk."

****

The two looked at each other, then promptly left.

****

Drawing and exhaling a cathartic breath, he approached the couch and looked her over, gleaning her vital signs as he went. Electrical burn marks identical to the ones on his hand and arm appeared on her neck, wrapping around the back and sides. He lined his hand up and the burns looked identical; letting this injury stay was a hazard on all fronts, but he could literally drop unconscious the moment he stopped having a thought.

****

His vessel’s soul pulsed, as if shouting at him. He looked downwards at his torso, to the point where his vessel’s soul uniquely intermingled with his Grace.

****

“...What?” With a voice barely above a whisper and filled with confusion, Gabriel queried the foolhardy soul.

****

He felt it pluck at the strings of Grace that traveled up and through his left arm, straight to his hand. It was a simple enough gesture for a soul to do to signify a need for external healing.

****

“Nonono, you know I can’t, not even for Amber. I wore this body into the ground today, let alone my Grace. Who knows what would happen if I half healed her, anyways?”

****

The soul stretched out and shone within him, and Gabriel got the message. It wasn’t what he expected, or quite what he was wanting to hear, really. “You want me...to tap you for this?” The soul flickered in a manner of agreement.  “You know that I could easily mess this up on a good day, right?” It flickered again, making Gabriel think it over.

****

Human souls were powerful little nuclear reactors of energy just ripe for any run-of-the-mill angel to tap, but it was a delicate process akin to running up and down never-ending flights of stairs with pocketfuls of nitroglycerin. He’d never done the process personally, but inherently knew it well as all other angels did; playing with soulless corpses was far more preferable to fiddling with the souls and bodies of the possibly unconsenting, despite the irony of the day.

****

But his vessel had consented, even after knowing every possible hazard that lay ahead. Irreversible death was damn near a possibility for the both of them, but between his vessel’s stubbornness and his own determination to clean up his own ness, Gabriel held his right hand over his solar plexus in preparation. A few meditative breaths, a few finger stretches, and he laid his hand against the outside point of entry. He quickly imparted a small fragment of energy to ensure her rest was far too deep to wake, should he scream too loudly or shine too brightly.

****

“Last chance to back out...” A feeling of agitation from his vessel’s soul shot through his Grace. “Yeah, I should have remembered. Backing down from near-certain death has never been your strong point, has it?” Gabriel smirked.

****

“Okay, three...” He ran Grace through his hand, preparing it for the dive.

****

“Two...” He began to press in, giving himself a shot of pain that made his whole body quiver. A little toe dip into the pool, it was.

****

“One!” He clenched his teeth and rammed his hand through his solar plexus, a cluster of wavelengths joining together to form a long chain of immeasurable power between Gabriel and his vessel.

****

The pain was numbing, his body seemingly too deep in shock to muster the correct pitch to scream. The neighborhood dogs probably didn’t appreciate the action much...

****

Gabriel snapped himself into focus, single-mindedly holding his free hand over Amber and channelling all his fresh reserves of healing energy into removing the burns from Amber’s neck.

****

A need rose through Gabriel from his vessel’s soul; all his injuries were in dire need of repair, so as to give his Grace the straight path to rebuilding his wings.

****

_I thought we were only gonna work on her..._

****

The sensation of absolute annoyance was all he got in response.

****

_The more we do, the more fire we play with..._

****

The pulsing response he received was intense; so intricate and precise, he could swear he heard it spoken aloud in his mind in a smoky haze of a subconscious whisper.

****

**_Since when have either of us ever done anything halfway, angel?_ **

****

Gabriel grinned as much as he could; his vessel was right.

****

_Fine, fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you..._

 

He began channeling his healing towards the burns on his back, his vessel eliciting a sense of relief as the skin sealed up and rejuvenated in whole. A straining pressure within his Grace alerted Gabriel to the dangerous overload he was putting on his Grace to keep the connection between it and his vessel’s soul, but he continued on to the meager task of healing his freshly burnt hand.

****

The strain intensified as he began to heal the damaged limb keeping the connection loop intact. Halfway through the regeneration, the taut strain snapped, leaving the sensation of a thousand small knives jabbing him internally through every connection between his Grace and his vessel’s body. Gabriel sharply exhaled and promptly stopped.

 

_Okay, that...that wasn’t good._

****

Gabriel caught his breath and slowly began to unfurl his grasp keeping the connection intact. His vessel’s soul tightly gripped his Grace, filling the whole body, Grace, soul, and all, with a sense of panicked urgency. As his hand and fingers began to slide away, the sensation of...something...peeling away from his hand. That was a bad sign. He stopped, retracting his hand and opened a short communication with his vessel’s soul.

****

_Okay, mon amigo. Uh, something’s feeling kinda funny. You felt it too, I would think. Okay, um, keep alert. I’m gonna sever this connection, and if anything bad should happen...well, we went over what to do, so I have faith you’ll be okay._

****

He gingerly removed his hand, and once he successfully removed it from his torso, a wave of dizziness hit him, and his legs turned to jello, dropping him to the ground in a heap.

****

In a manner akin to that little white pill, his body fell unresponsive within moments, and the darkness of unconsciousness took hold.

****

Returning back to the motel, Sam and Dean arrived at their room to find a note tacked to their door.

_**** _

_I came around earlier to bring you your laundry. I’ll try again later._

_\- Yvette_

****

Sam rolled his eyes as Dean smirked and opened the door.

****

**Hey Sam, I know you've been thinking about how weird that Andrew guy is...I think you should think harder about it. That kid might be in worse danger than you think, I think. And I know you think that, 'cause I'm up in your melon, reading all your thoughts...**

****

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, then took his coat off and draped it on the chair at the table.

****

"So we both agree that that was clearly Gabriel, right?" Sam sighed deeply, opening up his laptop.

****

"Man, he was pushing it when he grabbed me," Dean hissed as he took his coat off and plopped onto the end of his bed, continuing to remove his suit. "and dammit, going off like he don't know us? What the hell!"

****

"He's just playing a part, Dean."

****

"What the hell does he care about this kid anyways? Or pretending he's not himself around us? Doesn't he trust us?"

****

"Well, we -have- tried to kill him a few times, and we only really kinda started working with him two years ago...right before his big showdown with Lucifer."

****

**Right, you should ask him about how that went next time!**

****

Sam winced briefly, then continued. “Maybe he’s...maybe he’s just trying to lie low like he always does?”

****

Dean stood up, smouldering hot from the looks of it. “He picked a hell of a time to try, after he, he fed a Leviathan to a pack of dogs!” He threw his arm out, gesturing outside. He began to pace about, stroking his chin. “So he latches himself to this family ‘cuz of the kid, right? So he knows she’s in trouble then?” Dean frowned as he noticed that some of the blood had wiped off on his shirt. “Aw, man! I need a new shirt.”

****

**Oh, you know the answer, Sammy! It’s right there, in your grasp...**

Sam looked down and, like flipping a light switch, the image of Gabriel’s bandaged hand came to mind.

****

“He was hiding a burn,” Sam muttered. “he was there at the school.”

****

**Good work, Sammy boy!**

****

Dean looked over at Sam, his visage silently querying his younger brother to continue and clarify his previous statement. Focusing on Sam seemed to have calmed Dean down significantly.

****

“His hand, the blood was hiding burn marks!” Sam held his right hand up, holding it as if he were gripping something wide. “Amber’s neck had the same burn pattern; it was some sort of electrical pattern, like a lightning strike pattern. What are the odds that two people get an unrelated, yet somewhat identical, pattern like that?”

****

“Lightning doesn’t strike twice in the same pattern, you mean?” Dean began unbuttoning his shirt, debating in his head whether or not to toss it while he followed Sam’s mental train ride.

****

“Exactly. He must have been gripping her by the neck.” He looked at his own hand in wonder, trying to piece things together. “When she was in the back of the car, her right hand was twitching, too.”

****

“You think it’s related?”

****

“Yeah, maybe.”

****

“But why did that happen?”

****

**Sounds like somebody was working with his very own human hand puppet...**

****

Sam thought back, to be precise, but things were slightly unclear. “Do you remember when Amber started acting strangely?”

****

“Dean tossed his tie and shirt towards the new laundry basket. “Yeah, it’s when that one hot girl asked her if she wanted a ride home or something.”

****

Sam’s eyes widened. “It was her!” He slammed his open palm on the table. “He knew something was up with her, that’s why he made Amber insist that we take her.”

****

“Made her? How?”

****

“...I don’t know. I mean, he’s an archangel; I doubt we’ve seen even a fraction of the things he can pull off.”

****

"I don't like it." Dean paced faster, looking agitated. "I don't like it, not one bit."

****

"Neither do I. All we can do, short of actually summoning him here, is wait for him to come out of hiding."

****

"You think he knows he's smack dab in the middle of our case?"

****

"Well if he didn't before, he did when we showed up." Sam frowned. "I just wish we could convince him to help us more directly."

****

Dean stood still, sighing deeply. Pacing for a moment, a thought struck him. “Hey, you think that, if we could summon Balthazar, we could summon Gabe here? I mean, he’d have to come!”

****

Sam’s eyes widened. “I’ll see if there’s a summoning ritual associated directly with Gabriel.”

****

Pouring through information and digging through their supply bags, Sam and Dean whipped up a summoning bowl full of Gabriel-summoning gunk within a half hour's time. They looked at each other for a moment before Dean pulled out his lighter and set the bowl's contents on fire.

****

And they waited. Two minutes. Five minutes. Five minutes and ten seconds.

****

"You sure you got it right?" Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam.

****

"Yes, Dean. Maybe we didn’t use enough lamb's blood."

****

"We used the whole damn mason jar!"

****

"...maybe then we used too much?" Sam’s face and voice simultaneously painted the image of grasping for straws.

****

Dean fumed and stepped away. "Son of a bitch!”

 

Meanwhile, in the Wilder residence, Robert walked about, waiting for Carrie to arrive. He frowned and crossed his arms, then turned to face Sarah at her spot in the living room.

****

"Sarah, she's late."

****

"She told me she was dealing with her mother."

****

"She can't just eat the old hen?"

****

"Carrie said she wanted to make a meal of it, but wanted to commit to her diet. So she was gonna be late because she was gonna be stocking the remains in the basement nice and sanitarily."

****

Robert scoffed, tossing his arms in the air. "Well, she had better bring some for us! I haven't eaten all day!"

****

A series of rappings against the living room window in code alerted Robert and Sarah to Carrie's arrival. From outside the window, she smiled and held up a picnic basket.

****

"Wonderful!" Robert grinned, walking over to the door in a sunnier mood and letting her in. "You had better brought enough for all of us!"

****

Carrie walked in with the basket in front of her, marching steadily into the living room as Sarah walked into the kitchen to get the utensils and plated. "Oh, I brought some gourmet cuts. It took me awhile to prepare everything, sorry."

****

“So what did you bring?” Sarah asked, smiling.

****

Carrie opened up the basket, revealing foil-wrapped items, a box of water crackers, and a large tupperware container. She held the container up along with the crackers. “I made pate! Took me forever to get the cognac. Damn teenage body; had to eat the liquor store owner and the tape.” She sighed. “I could use some pate.”

****

“And you brought water crackers; perfect combo.” Sarah finished setting the dining room table and stood to signal her completion.

****

Carrie perked up. “I know, right?!”

****

“Alright ladies,” Robert clapped his hands together as he stood up. “let’s break out the hors d'oeuvres and talk plans.”

****

Carrie walked her basket of food to the table with Robert right behind her. She looked to her companions as she began removing the rest of the contents. “So, I brought a full set of ribs in barbecue sauce for you,” She set the ribs down in front of Robert, his eyes lighting up at the sight. “and I know Sarah likes her thigh meat, so there’s that,” She set a pile of meat similar in texture to pulled pork down in front of Sarah. “and there’s ketchup in the fridge, yeah?”

****

“Yeah.” Sarah blushed, then looked to Robert. “Isn’t she wonderful?”

****

“She certainly spoiled me.” Robert grinned widely. “And this brand of barbecue sauce, oh it’s the good one.”

****

“But first, the pate. I wanna know what you guys think. It was my first try.”

****

Robert and Sarah both took a quick sampling of pate on the crackers, giving small sounds of enjoyment with full mouths, eagerly diving in for seconds and thirds. Carrie beamed with pride, then began the meeting.

****

“So what’s our progress, Robert?”

****

Robert took a break from eating and looked to Carrie.

****

"Well, I had a less than pleasant voicemail from George telling me that Joyce is displeased with our speed, and I had to spend an hour explaining to her that we had everything under control, despite the steakhouse incident with the angel. I had to lie to her and tell her it's some rogue seraph, because who is gonna believe we're dealing with a zombie archangel?"

****

“Man, why did we get stuck with Joyce? We’re gonna get bibbed!” Sarah sighed deeply.

****

Robert slammed his hand against the table, making the legs creak slightly. “Don’t think like that! We must think positively!” He sighed deeply. “I told her that the Winchesters have also been spotted, and she said that she would send a small team out to their location and they will be handled with.”

****

“Ugh, thank goodness.” Carrie shook her head in disgust. “Those two, I swear. So dumb, but so pretty.”

****

“It’s always the pretty ones that are unbelievably dumb. Trust me.” Robert smirked. “Alright, so! I have a scouting plan for later that I myself will be executing.”

****

“What are you doing?” Sarah cocked her head to the side, waiting for his response.

****

“I will be scouting the Faulkner residence, and attempting to get Amber alone. If I can get just a drop of blood out of her, we’re golden.”

****

“But that archangel’s shadowing her!” Carrie set her cracker down, looking worried.

****

“Please. He can’t justify murdering me in front of her. That’s why he didn’t kill Jack at the restaurant. She was there. He won’t murder us in front of them. He’s gotta have some sort of facade going on that he’s not gonna break in front of her.”

****

“That must be why he did that...the, the mind control thing instead of trying to get me away on his own!” Carrie’s expression became completely enthusiastic and she gestured excitedly  as she spoke.

****

“So, I’m gonna be just fine.”

****

“Well, how you gonna get in?” Sarah bit her lip.

****

“I have a plan.” Robert diverted his gaze to a stack of books on a nearby nightstand. “I got this.” He clasped his hands together and grinned. “But first, let’s finish the food before it gets cold.”

****

Several hours passed silently in the Faulkner residence before the prone figure on the floor rustled slightly. With a deep gasp of air, the figure’s eyes shot open, immediately set to scan the area.

****

Rule One of Plan B: Examine your locale. Determine any and all hazards and avoid them with extreme vigilance.

****

There seemed to be no immediate dangers to his life, so the man sat up, continuing to determine where he was. He was so fortunate that the archangel riding inside  in his body kept him well-informed of current locations; this was the residence he was currently cohabiting in with the two females, right? Yes, it was; it was really too small to be any other place he could recall.

****

In front of him was a folding bed, the younger of the two females looking soaked and unconscious under a blanket and propped up with pillows.

****

It was time to continue on with Rule Two: Assess the condition of nearby humanoids; if you’re awake and moving, something terrible has happened recently and assuring you have someone to rely on to clue you in is another step to survival.

****

The man, foregoing the terrible exhaustion-caused stiffness and soreness throughout his whole body, shifted upwards and forwards to check her vitals as best as he could without the archangel’s help. She was breathing, her heart was beating normally, and her temperature felt rather normal, so she was clearly stable. Her unconscious state seemed far too deep for a normal sleep; the archangel must have rendered her unconscious.

****

Right, the archangel!

****

He lightly tapped a pair of fingers against his solar plexus. “Eo, luminiculum? Eo...?”

****

A terribly faint flicker responded to him, like a child swatting a parent’s hand away in a half-unconscious state. It wasn’t dead, at the very least, despite the creature’s fears.

****

“Integrum tu?”

****

Another celestial half-swat; the archangel was too weak to do much else to or for him, it seemed. So, the archangel was not okay, but it was still alive. The man would have to rely solely on his own set of internalized primal magics to handle situations.

****

His right hand seemed doctored to look severely injured, and the kitchen was doctored to look like the scene of injury. A ploy for visitors...? Likely. A snap of his fingers caused the kitchen scene and the blood on his right arm to disappear in a murky black haze, leaving the remainders of the lightning-like burns and burn wounds from a celestial-based injury. The wrappings looked horrid and rushed; a quick snap replaced the loose gauze with a tight-fitting and minimized gauze dressing, covering a thick layer of neosporin.

****

Nothing much needed to be done besides...well, feed his intense and sudden craving for sweets. Ah, the hazards of overdoing himself.

****

He stood up slowly, sauntering into the kitchen and hunting down various sources of edible sugar-loaded energy. He hadn't actually eaten all day, and the archangel had overextended everything and then some.

****

His nose dragged him to the storage areas, but nothing really stood out to him as adequate. He wandered towards the fridge, when a flicker of a memory jabbed him. There were things in the cupboard near the stove that the archangel had signified as interestingly energy-laden.

****

He opened the cupboard and grabbed a single aluminum-wrapped square, unwrapping it slowly to examine it.

****

A plethora of smells caressed his senses; honey, peanuts, dark chocolate, pomegranates, and even oat grains! It reminded him of some strange sort of trail mix bar. He took a bite and mulled over the flavor.

****

It wasn’t very sweet at all, despite the honey and the dried fruit. Perhaps it was from the constant inundation of overly processed sugars in regular candy bars. The savory quality of the ingredients was far more satisfying overall, despite its lack of immediate gratification. Before he realized it, he had gnawed his way through most of the bar and was craving a second one. He grabbed several more and sat down cross-legged on the kitchen floor, wolfing down one bar after another until he was fairly satiated.

****

The bars were far more energy-packed than their dry, semi-flat, and not-overly-sweet nature suggested, and by the time he was done chowing down, his body had already begun to feel refueled, his magic aura no longer draining him of his own short supply of energy.

****

A light grunt and slight movements from the living room made his ears perk up. The girl must have started to wake up! He stood up, realizing how sticky the honey from the bars had left his hands. He frowned, washing his hands as Amber slowly awoke.

****

“Eo, mea cognata!” He smiled, drying his hands off on the nearby dish towel. She looked over at him, slowly sitting up. She looked dazed, and slightly startled by his voice. He should be quieter, calmer. He set the towel down and approached her, kneeling slightly to meet her at eye level. “Quomodo tu? Integra tu?”

****

She raised an eyebrow. “The fuck are you saying?”

****

He went pale at her response; in his excitement, he had completely ignored Rule Three: Assess the local language and speak only it exclusively. That was the most important rule once in a safe haven! Augh, dammit!

****

He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked to the side and muttered angrily at himself. “Heu, cicera...”

****

His mind raced to translate what he could as fast as possible. He cleared his throat and took a long relaxing breath to focus before looking back at Amber.

****

“...My apologies. That...happens at times.”

****

She looked at him, her face filling with curiosity. Was she confused by his statement? Well, babbling to her in what was clearly a barbaric language to her ears certainly would confuse anyone. The archangel would chew him out for that later. Her eyes widened and she began to hyperventilate.

****

"Wait, what am I doing here?! I need to get to school, I got AP English!"

****

He could only think to grab her shoulders to give her a sense of steadiness. "You are safe here, alright?"

****

She gave him a wary look. "Safe?"

****

Using contractions would make him sound more casual, more like the archangel, and that was probably best for the duration of their conversation. "Yes, safe. Home is safe. Outside...safety isn't...absolute." He clenched her shoulders firmly, giving a serious look.

****

Amber looked him over, spotting his wrapped hand. "What happened to you? What's going on?"

****

"What's the last thing you remember?"

****

"What does that have to d-"

****

"Tell me. I might be able to help." His earnest smile seemed to calm her down.

****

"I...I was at school."

****

"Okay. What was the time?"

****

"Ugh...it was lunch period. so like, 12:30-ish?"

****

"Okay," He spotted the clock in the kitchen. "it's almost 4 right now."

****

"Shit!"

****

"Is it okay to go home from school if you are sick?"

****

"I had a presentation to give!"

****

"Oh. You were unconscious; your teacher can't blame you for that." He gave her shoulders a soft shake. "Now, take a deep breath."

****

Amber took a deep breath and exhaled roughly, turning slightly red.

****

"There is nothing that can be done about the past. You can only repair things in the present and the future. You’ve had a bad morning, yes?"

****

Amber teared up slightly and nodded yes. He sighed and frowned, then pulled her in for an embrace. “I apologize."

****

"I don't know what's going on..."

****

"Things are clouded for me too." He pulled back slightly, allowing himself to look her directly in the eyes. This was the perfect moment to impart a piece of time-tested advice. "I have a system for whenever I feel out of place. There’s four parts to it. You want to know them?"

****

Amber nodded.

****

"Okay. So, part one: make sure you aren't in harm's way. If you are, then try to get away. Part two: when you are safe, assess where you are and acquire friendly parties to surround yourself with. Part three: assess the language of the party and speak it exclusively. Part four: acquire information from the party in regards to what happened to you. From there you can even have a fifth part: plan a set of actions to counter whatever happened to you." He smiled proudly. "Understood?"

****

"...sounds like you do this often."

****

"Not very often. But knowing what to do is important." Another warm smile, then he let her go. "You are...quite wet." He mimed trying to slowly shake his arms off. "Do you want to change into some dry clothes?"

****

"Yeah." Amber pulled herself off the couch, discarding the blanket, and slowly made her way to her room. She opened the door, and with a distinctly plastic-like thunk, the bucket of glitter that had been precariously perched on the door fell down on Amber's head, coating her in a heavy layer of rainbow sparkles.

****

“FUUUUUUCK!” Amber grabbed the bucket and hurled it backwards into a shelving unit, knocking some decorative object over and onto the floor.

****

Did the archangel rig the house, too? Just...great. He searched the house, locating all the sources of his chaotic magic lodged into water fixtures, floorboards, various appliances...the archangel was really looking to immerse her in some catastrophic terror!

****

A quick finger snap was the catalyst to disarm all the little chaotic magic-laden traps around the house. Amber huffed and turned to face the concerned looking man in her living room.

****

"You dick!"

****

"I apologize for not taking that one down. I...forgot."

****

"Dude, what the fuck?!"

****

He smirked. "Hey, it's funny! What's a few non-lethal tricks between tricksters, huh?"

****

Amber stared blankly at him for a few moments, then shook her head. “I...am gonna try and scrub the glitter off, okay?”

****

He just smiled calmly and nodded, and Amber swiftly scampered into the bathroom.

Sitting down, he mulled over his thoughts and realized that apologizing over the day's events on behalf of both himself and the archangel would most certainly make Amber question how he managed such things. If he said anything incriminating, revealing, the archangel was surely to make a fuss about it.

********  
  


Well it was an acceptable fuss; if he wanted the girl to think positively of him now, he was going to have to offer her something besides nice meals and apologies. If there was one thing he had learned about young women Amber's age in the thousands of years he had been around alongside the archangel, it was that they have always been, and forever would be, fickle and grudge-keeping until they felt adequately repaid for their misery.

****

It was over a half hour before the he heard the water finally turn off, and a litany of vitriolic one-syllable words were being loudly grumbled about glitter being something like “the herpes of craft supplies”, whatever that was supposed to mean.

****

He scanned the house for an adequate set of ingredients for a dinner-type meal, settling with the frozen whole turkey and the can of gravy in the cupboard. With a snap, he amalgamated them all instantly into a fully cooked and simple turkey dinner for two, sitting steaming hot on the table.

****

She took slightly longer to leave the bathroom than the shower length suggested, but she emerged from the room with her hair tied up in the towel like a turban, and in a fresh pair of running sweats, socks, and her school team's oxblood shaded jersey.

****

She stared at the turkey, her eyes going wide in surprise. She then looked at him with a sense of wonder painted on her face. “Alright,” She pointed at the turkey. “How’d you do that?”

****

He calmly eyed the chair across the table from where he began sitting, then looked back to her. “Sit.”

****

She cautiously sat down and eyed the bird between them. "That was the one in the freezer this morning, wasn't it?"

****

"It was." He folded his hands in his lap.

****

She blinked, looking blindsided. "Okay, I know I was out of it, but I know you damn well weren't cooking that thing when I woke up. What the fuck is going on?" A look of wary alertness filled her gaze.

****

He leaned forwards in his chair, his face harboring a calm expression. "Tell me, do you believe in...monsters?"

****

Her eyes widened in wonder and confusion. "...like vampires and werewolves and ghosts and crap like that?"

****

"Yes."

****

"I've seen some weird shit that like, I can't figure out how they happened, but like...I don't take anything without a grain of salt, ya know?"

****

He nodded in understanding. "I hate to tell you, but most of those sorts of stories are real. There are every kind of monster you can imagine, and even some you can't."

****

Amber laughed loudly, tossing her head back in sheer amusement. After a few moments, she looked at his serious look and slowly calmed down. "You...you're serious...?" He cleared his throat, causing her to stop laughing, and start coughing. "O...kay...so...how do you know they exist?"

****

"One more quick question," He smiled devilishly, making Amber lean slightly away from him. "it's the last one, I promise."

****

"What?"

****

"Have you ever heard of a Trickster?"

****

She raised an eyebrow. "Maybe. Is that a kind of monster or something?"

****

"They're demi-gods. And they love to..." He looked up, rolling his left hand as he tried to conjure up a suitable word. "humorously impart wisdom upon the wicked little monsters who ruin lives without consideration. They use shadow magics to conjure illusions in their efforts to...educate their prey."

****

Amber gripped the chair's armrests. "What do you mean, 'educate'?"

****

He smirked, leaning towards her. "Oh, they do all sorts of things, but they particularly enjoy giving their targets their..." He looked up again. "What is that phrase again...? Oh, right." He looked back at her, a mischievous look in his visage as he stared directly into her eyes. "Just desserts. Punishment through hilarious ironies and coincidences."

****

Amber cocked her head to the side, squinting slightly in confusion. "So...what are you telling me this for?"

****

The vessel smirked devilishly and waggled his eyebrows as he shifted himself into a more casual sitting position. "I think you know why."

****

Amber went wide-eyed and shot up out of the chair, only to be greeted by a pair of hands from an unknown party behind her grabbing her shoulders tightly once she was on her feet. She looked back to see a clones of the man in front of her, a stern look on the copy's face.

****

She went to scream and the shadow clone clasped a hand over her mouth. A swift kick to the groin produced little more than a momentary imbalance for the shadow clone, its face painting a smug smirk across it instead of pain.

****

The sound of a car pulling up outside drew the vessel's attention away from Amber, and more towards the front door. The door began to become unlocked, and Amber began to fidget and scream, the latter muffled by the shadow clone's hand.

****

Linda walked through the front door rambling. "Andrew, what the hell is going on with the FBI...?" She looked up and over at the scene in the kitchen, and her eyes went as wide as dinner plates. She looked between the vessel and the shadow clone, and then to Amber who was flailing in the shadow clone's grasp.

****

"Calm down, Amber..." The clone whispered in her ear, gently sitting her down into her seat.

****

"Welcome home, Linda. You are...early." The vessel grinned, getting up from his seat. "Come join us."

****

Linda panicked and, in her shock, promptly fainted. The vessel, surprised by the action, conjured a second clone to catch her mid-fall. The second shadow caught her and, in a single movement, picked her up into a comfortable carrying position.

****

The vessel sighed. "Put her on the couch..." He then turned around to face Amber as the shadow followed his command. "I wish you humans wouldn't do this every single time..." He plopped down in his chair, looking slightly defeated. "Now I would still like to talk to you, Amber, but you have to promise you won't scream when I have my doppelganger remove its hand from your mouth, okay?"

****

Amber glared at him, still trying to get out of the shadow clone's grasp.

****

"I'm not going to hurt you, alright? I made dinner as a show of good faith." He gestured to the turkey. "So can we talk?" He was half tempted to give the old "beaten dog" look, but doing so even now would be too underhanded in his mind.

****

"I will have it remove the hand right now as another sign of good faith, okay?" Amber continued to glare. "Alright, I will dismiss both of them. Just you and me. Is that enough?" Amber looked away, still looking upset. With a snap, the two shadow clones disappeared in waves of dissipating purplish-black clouds. Amber looked back at him, malice in her eyes.

****

This was going to be another mistake, the vessel could feel it.


	5. Veritas I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Trickster finds himself in trouble with no divine influence to lend social graces to him, the Leviathans make another effort, and Sam finds himself in a strange situation with a suddenly divided household.

“Get the fuck away from me!”  

 

Amber pulled up against the wall in dread, her eyes darting for escape routes.

 

The Trickster slowly rose from his chair, causing Amber to scream.

 

“Don’t fucking even!” Animosity filled her eyes as she pointed straight at him with a hand trembling in fear. “Don’t even think of fucking coming near me, god fucking dammit!”

 

“Don’t take His name in vain because you are uncomfortable around me,” a bothered look crossed his face as he crossed his arms while rising to his full height. “and please sit back down. I wish to continue speaking to you.”

 

“Are you-...what the fuck is there to talk about? You’re a fucking monster, the FBI’s up my ass about my friends, and how the fuck am I supposed to be certain you’re not gonna fucking ‘punish me’ or some shit? Ugh, I can’t even fucking sleep again knowing you’re on the same planet as me, oh my god!”

 

He refrained from condemning her language use again, and merely rolled his eyes. “I would like to at least talk to you in a civil manner regarding my revelation. Please sit.”

 

“Civil? You tell me you fucking ‘punish people’ - and not even how! - just for being a dickbag!” She slammed her hands on the table. “I mean, really? And how do you punish people?”

 

He smirked, lighting up slightly at her query. “Oh, I just,” he rolled his hand, trying to think of a suitable set of words. “turn...turn? Yes, turn. Turn what they do to others back onto them. People who harm animals, I make pseudo-animals to harm them. People who hurt other people, I make pseudo-people to harm them. That is the primary job of my shades, the facsimiles of myself I create. Their secondary job is to distract Hunters.”

 

Amber shook her head and tossed her hands up. “How fucking noble, a fucking morality monster. I’m so sorry I can’t tell you apart from like, a serial killer, at this point.”

 

He thought for a moment, translating his opinion. “Well, the killing part is more akin to, ah, weeding a garden than really taking vengeance in behalf of their victims, really.”

 

Amber’s face blanched. “Seriously?! Was that supposed to make me feel better?” Her mouth agape, she stood up from the table. She looked away, running her hand through her hair. “Holy fucking shit, I can’t, I can’t do this...”

 

She turned around, pressing fingertips in her temples, attempting to soothe the pain of her incoming headache. The Trickster frowned, sighed, and crossed his arms, quickly realizing his complete lack of diplomatic acumen had more or less ruined everything the angel had been working with up to this point.

 

There was a reason he never chimed in on these sorts of matters. The cunning executions, he was fine at. Speaking to teenage girls was...something he had forsaken the opportunity to accrue experience on. 

 

He came out of his self-chastising and saw that she was attempting to leave his line of sight by ducking into her bedroom around the corner. He sat up, summoning a clone to grab her and calmly bring her back in. The clone applied just enough pressure to its grip and shuffled her back into the kitchen, being rewarded with punches and spat curses of protest for its efforts to be gentle with the teenaged girl.

 

“FUCKING PUT ME DOWN!” Amber kicked and flailed. “MOM! MOM!” The clone wisened up, covering her mouth.

 

“Please, let’s be civil and rational about this…” The clone sat her in the chair and held her down as the Trickster continued speaking, a tone of defeat having taken hold. “Please. We did not start with a good dialogue…” He sighed deeply and hung his head for a few moments. “This is developing quite poorly…”

 

Amber narrowed her eyes in cautious curiosity as he sighed and slowly looked up at her.

 

“...What can I do to ease your worries about me?” He looked to the shadow clone, who dropped its hand away.

 

“Fuck off, and leave my mother and I alone. Whatever you’re here for, just fucking go.”

 

The cold bitterness of her words stung deeply in a way that defied his slight language barrier, and all he could do was sit back, broken-hearted and defeated. He slumped, looking away. The angel was not going to be happy with these situations at all.

 

Dispelling the clone, the Trickster stood up, running his hand through his hair and looking around confusedly. “Uh...where should I go, then?”

 

Amber glared. “Wherever the fuck you feel like. Because if you don’t leave, the cops will be the least of your worries.”

 

He walked a few steps, then stopped in his tracks. He couldn’t shrug off the commitment now. Besides, where was there to go…? The car! Technically, being in the car meant he was not in the house, and Amber was not being specific about how far he had to go.

 

“You have my word. I am sorry this has gone so wrong.”

 

With a snap of his fingers and a smirk painted on his face, the Trickster teleported away in a plume of black smoke.

 

Several miles away, Sam Winchester wrote furiously on a piece of paper.

 

-Gabriel -> depowered? -> injuries suggest this -> summoning failed, maybe requires power to be summoned?

-Gabriel -> not him? -> crazy coincidence -> does not explain steakhouse incident

~Why is he protecting her?~

-if it’s Gabriel it makes no sense; it’s unlike him to be like this

-if not Gabriel it may be something he does

-maybe we did the summoning wrong -> impossible, we checked it three times before we did it

-we should really go to to the Faulkner Residence again either way

 

“Hey Sammy, just relax,” Dean replied, sipping a bottle of local brew. “come and enjoy some of this, man.” He held up a bottle and grinned while lightly jiggling it. “I hear it calling your name…”

 

You should do it Sammy boy, you aren’t gonna come back here anyways…

 

Sam sighed, covertly driving the pen into his palm wound.

 

“I’m trying to put this all together, Dean.”

 

“We did a summoning, it didn’t work, we can’t go back tonight without getting Gabe up our ass, so we’ll stroll over tomorrow, nab the kid, gank ourselves a couple Leviathans, figure out what’s up with her, and figure out what to do with her.”

 

Sam restrained an annoyed chuckle. “And then what? Hell, we’ve outrun the FBI before, on our own, on several occasions, but we can’t even shake these Leviathans with somebody like Frank’s help. You think we can just toss a kid and her mom somewhere and not expect them to get killed?”

 

Dean pursed his lips and gave the look he typically gave when he was mildly dumbfounded. “We’ll figure it out.”

 

“Dean, we’re out in the middle of nowhere, and they’ve jumped all over this kid. The only thing keeping her alive is...is…” Sam sighed.

 

“Gabe?”

 

“...I don’t know. I’m not even sure if it’s him at this point. I mean, wouldn’t he have made his move by now? Jumped all over us, called us some vaguely derogatory term for not working fast enough to help him, zap-fried us, something. That guy, today? He had the douchebag part down, but,” he sighed. “Gabriel he isn’t.”

 

Dean smirked. "I'll give ya that."

 

"So I'm gonna go out and check her house. "

 

"Hell no, you ain't goin’ yourself. I'll go with ya.” Dean finished his beer, then stood up from the bed.

 

“Dean, I’m fine. I can drive down and come back.” He held a hand up in protest; unfortunately, or possibly unironically, he had held up his left hand.

 

“You can’t one-man-army a Leviathan.” Dean gave a look that pleaded harder with Sam to stay than his words did.

 

“I’m fine.”

 

Sam narrowed his eyes and lightly pursed his lips, giving Dean the loud and clear message that he was not going to negotiate his actions any longer.

 

“Fine, just keep in touch; and if you have to hit a bigmouth with the car, try not to break anything. The autobody shop here looks sketchy.”

 

Sam retrieved the keys from the nightstand next to Dean’s bed and smiled. “Thanks.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, shut up and go.”

 

By the time Linda had woken up, Amber had decided upon attempting to eat one of the turkey's drumsticks.

 

"...Amber?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

Linda ran a hand through her hair, trying to collect her thoughts. "...where's Andrew?"

 

Amber looked up to Linda and dropped the drumstick, unsure of how to start the conversation.

 

“Out with it.” Linda said, crossing her arms.

 

“Mom...what do you know about Andrew?”

 

Linda’s face blanched, taking a seat across from her.

 

“Uh...we, uh, met one night and he...he got me out of a tight spot. Said he was a traveling performer, made good enough scratch to take me out and bring me honeysuckle bouquets every once in a while. I didn’t ask too much then; he saved my hide and I didn’t want his life story that badly. Family seemed like a wreck; didn’t like to talk about’em, and when he did, never sounded good.” She stopped her fingers from idly fidgeting as they had been, and looked Amber eye to eye. “what...happened?” She leaned in. “What did he do to you, because I swear to Go-”

 

“Linda, he’s a serial killer.”

 

Linda stopped speaking, letting her jaw hang open in abject horror.

 

“Like, he’s got a total God complex about it…” Amber shuddered. “Thinks he’s doing the world a favor killing assholes off.” She restrained a chuckle. “Well, not that he ain’t right, but…”

 

Linda chortled. “Yeah…” She sighed heavily, setting her elbows on the table and her hands in her palms. “...Son of a bitch…” She looked up. “I know how to pick’em, don’t I?”

 

“Yeah, Linda…” Amber replied. “that’s not even the worst of it.”

 

Linda arched her eyebrows. “How could this possibly be worse?”

 

“He...he told me he’s…” Amber huffed. “He showed me that he’s a, a monster.”

 

“Showed you how?” Linda grabbed Amber’s hands. 

 

“He...he can make copies of himself, like clones. Magical clones. He can actually do magic. He murders people, with magic.”

 

Linda looked away, trying to process. “Oh god, I wasn’t seeing things…”

 

“No you weren’t.”

 

“Did he hurt you?” She ran her hands through her hair, then grabbed Amber’s hands once more, more for her own stability than Amber’s.

 

“I’m fine, just really fucking freaked out. He didn’t like, hurt me, really…” Amber trailed off, looking around.

 

Linda, unsure of what else there could possibly be to say, looked the turkey over. “So how’d you thaw this out?”

 

“He did that, I guess, with some hocus pocus crap. I’ll be the guinea pig.” She lifted the drumstick up to her mouth, and Linda swiped it from her hands.

 

“Let me.”

 

“Fine! Whatever.” Amber sat back, her arms crossed as she watched. 

 

As Linda began to move the drumstick to her mouth, a crash erupted from the back of the house. The two looked back at their storage room in curiosity. When nothing else happened for several moments, Linda stood up, set the drumstick down, and grabbed a chef’s knife from the knife block.

 

“Stay.” Linda issued her order and made her way through the hallway to the storage area.

 

A few moments later, and there was a knock at the front door. Amber glared at the door, then got up and grabbed the cleaver from the knife block, sliding it in her back pocket as she approached the door.

 

She nervously swung the door open; it was Rachel, her friend who had walked her to her locker earlier in the day. In her arms appeared the be a bundle of classwork.

 

“Hey! You’re looking drier.” Rachel joked.

 

“Feeling drier.” Amber smirked. “Hey, sorry about earlier.”

 

“It’s cool. Mind if I come in? It’s a bit breezy.”

 

“Sure!” Amber gave a wide smile and let Rachel in, turning to hide the blade from her.

 

“So, how’re ya feeling? Carrie and Sarah said the FBI guys took you away after I left.” Rachel stopped in the middle of the living room, spinning on her heel to face Amber.

 

Amber hesitated; had she actually left with the FBI? She remembered speaking to them, but what happened next was a giant blank.

 

There was something screwy with those two.

 

“I’m okay. Just...it’s been a day.” Amber shook her head, then began to circle around Rachel to continue concealing her cleaver. “You want a drink?”

 

Meanwhile in the back room, Linda looked around, spotting the broken window in question. She warily approached the window, her eyes darting around the room.

 

A scuffle from the back of the room drew her attention. It sounded like some sort of animal clawing at something, giving her enough reason to hold the blade out in front of her.

 

Reaching the back of the room, Linda looked around in confusion; not a sign of anything vaguely resembling animal claw marks or movement around the area. Suddenly, a pair of hands reached up and clamped around her mouth.

 

She tried to scream, but no sound escaped her lips. She began to flail, but the strong body behind her that held her tightly was intent on being the only thing that made her move. Struggling, she flung the knife back, only to have her arm slammed into the wall by her attacker, causing her to drop her knife. She screamed louder and kicked backwards, hoping to knock the attacker off-balance, but neither plan worked.

 

She tried to spin the attacker off, but only succeeded in wearing herself down and making her attacker slam her into the wall.

 

“Stop it, it’s only gonna hurt more…” The attacker teased as it slammed her into the wall once more.

 

From the living room, Amber suddenly jumped at the sound of the thumping. She turned to look at Rachel, who looked far less terrified than she did...annoyed. A quick sucking of her teeth and an eyeroll led Amber to shiver.

 

“I told him to be quiet.” Rachel muttered, then dropped her books.

 

Amber’s eyes widened, and she backed up against the kitchen island, slowly reaching for the cleaver.

 

"Hey, what's the matter? I don't wanna hurt ya..." Rachel grinned, her teeth sharpening themselves to points before Amber's very eyes. "I just wanna bring you to meet some friends."

 

"Fuck your friends." Lightning fast, Amber whipped the cleaver from her back pocket, managing to sink the blade deeper than where her skull should have been. There was no crack of skull against blade, only a splatter of black goo from Rachel's head.

 

Rather than fall down in pain, Rachel's grin fell into a disappointed grimace. "That was totally not cool." The annoyed Leviathan grabbed Amber's wrist and yanked her hand off the blade. "You are so lucky I'm not allowed to eat you."

 

"Rachel...?" Amber's voice quaked.

 

"Sorry sweetie. Not today.”

 

Amber inhaled sharply to scream, and was rewarded with Rachel clamping her mouth shut. “C’mon, out the door we go…”

 

In the back room, Linda stamped on her assailant’s foot, again getting nowhere.

 

“Hands off, swamp bait.” A female voice hissed from behind the both of them, and both the assailant and Linda were turned around to see an unknown figure brandishing what appeared to be a some sort of long wooden sai, without a hand guard or properly wide pommel, the blade length elongated to the length of the woman’s arm, and whittled and polished down from a sprig of spruce.

 

“The hell are you?” The assailant queried.

 

“The cavalry.” A wide grin filled Yvette’s face as she lunged forwards, wooden implement in front of her driven forwards in a thrusting jab.

 

Surprisingly, the tip of the seemingly harmless long stick pierced through the assailant’s chest, a viscous black fluid seeping out through the wound. She pulled the stick out and swiped at the assailant’s arm and cut his arm off at the elbow, allowing her to grab the rest of the arm attached to Linda’s face. The freed woman scurried to Yvette’s side, a look of confusion and terror spread across her face.

 

Yvette looked down at her and smiled. “Chill! ‘M on your side, sugar snap. You’re safe.”

The Leviathan charged, and Yvette shoved Linda away before ducking down and sliding under its feet. Quickly getting up off the floor, she swung at its neck, slicing its head off with ease. The body tumbled to the floor mid-step, and Yvette caught the head. “Well, that was simple enough.” She looked around, then pointed to a steel lockbox nearby. “Can you bring that here?”

 

“Who are you?” Linda asked, recovering from the shove. 

 

“I’m a friend who’s here to help. Name’s Yvette.” She gave a warm smile. “You gonna get me that box?”

 

“Sure, but you better goddamn explain what is going on.”

 

“Promise.” A scuffling sound caught Yvette’s ears, and she whipped her head around to look at the door. “Shit.” She looked up at the ceiling with a strange look for several moments, concentrating on something Linda could neither see nor hear.

 

“You alright?” Linda queried.

 

Yvette’s head snapped back around. “Hm? Oh. Yeah. I’m fine. We’re fine, now. Just need that box.”

 

“So what kind of stick is that?” Linda asked as she cautiously reached back and grabbed the lockbox, shoving it out in front of herself.

 

“It’s a magic stick.” Yvette smirked, taking the box. “Now stand guard for a second while I get this head in this box.”

 

Rachel kicked the door off its hinges, walking out towards the street.

 

“Calm down, Amber! It’s gonna be so cool. You won’t feel a thing, really!”

 

A chill filled the air, and Rachel turned around to see the source. “Oh, fucking hell.”

 

The Trickster stood, leaning against the side of the house, as if waiting for her.

 

“You will wish Hell was your next destination when I’m finished,” He smirked, pushing off of the wall and walking closer to the two. “so put the girl down and I promise this won’t be long.”

 

“Get bent, you feathery fuck.” Rachel replied, taking steps away from him.

 

“Sorry, no feathers here. Just darkness and death.” With a quick snap, a long, ancient spear appeared in his hand, the stone tip baring runic inscriptions. Standing firm and pointing the blade at Rachel, he arched an eyebrow. “Are you really going to turn my kind offer down?”

 

“Finders, keepers, dipshit.”

 

“Fine.” He sneered and hurled the spear upwards in a seemingly straight angle.

 

Amber and Rachel both stared at him, an exasperated look painted on both of their faces. Amber’s eyes began to quiver in fear as Rachel grinned.

 

“...Yeah, you totally missed.” Rachel pulled the cleaver from her head and held it to Amber’s neck. “Now that you literally threw your weapon away, it’s my turn to make the deals around here.”

 

He looked up at the spear, then at her, his smug look deflating to a more default state. “Fine. What would you like from me?”

 

Inside, Yvette chuckled as she rummaged through the pantry. “Oh man, you guys have like, nothing in here.”

 

“Do you mind?” Linda snapped. “You still haven’t answered anything I’ve asked you!”

 

“Sorry. I’m a bit hungry.” Yvette replied, looking at Linda. “I woulda raided the energy bar cabinet over there, but I sense he’s already beat me to it…” She huffed, blowing hair out of her eyes.

 

“Who?” Linda queried, narrowing her eyes as she sat in Amber’s former chair. Although she was out of sight, Linda took Amber’s non-presence and silence to mean that she had simply gone to bed.

 

“...Can I get a bite of that turkey?” Yvette’s eyes lit up, avoiding the answer.

 

Linda sighed and tossed her hands up, knowing that the strange woman was probably not going to answer her until she ate something. “Sure, fine.”

 

Yvette scurried to the table, yanking a wing from the turkey off with ease, then dropped into the chair across from Linda and kicked her feet up on the table.

 

Much like her yellow tanktop, the strange woman’s green canvas shoes were stained with little drops of the goo that Linda’s Leviathan assailant was filled with. She surmised that the black leather pants and jacket were also covered in it as well, and Linda’s inner clean freak lashed out.

 

“Feet off the table!”

 

To her surprise, Yvette sprung into an immediate change in posture, silently sitting upright in a proper manner, even if she had begun to munch on the turkey wing without a plate or napkin underneath her to catch droppings.

 

“So that man. Was he some sort of...monster?” Linda furrowed her brows.

 

“Yeah. It’s called a ‘Leviathan’,” She rolled her eyes and spun the half-gnawed turkey wing in the air. “but I call’em ‘big mouths’ because they’re like giant maws full of sharp teeth when they decloak.”

 

“Decloak? Like a Bird of Prey?” Linda tipped her head to the side. 

 

“A lot less Romulan, a lot more Changeling, if that makes sense.” Yvette spun the wing around while scrunching her nose up.

 

“You mean the gooey Founders guys?” Linda wiggled her fingers, making a face.

 

“Yeah, them.” Yvette pointed the tip of the chicken wing at Linda.

 

“Oh...okay.” Linda nodded. “I’m sorry if I’m asking so much...Amber, she just-”

 

Yvette held up a hand. “It’s all good. I know.” She then looked back towards the door, then looked up towards the roof, smiling.

 

“Is everything alright?”

 

“Yeah, Amber’s safe now.”

 

Irritation quickly shifted to a maternal rage as Linda grabbed Yvette’s wrist, yanking the turkey bearing hand away from her. “What do you mean, ‘now’?!”

 

Yvette gave an irritated look of her own as her eyes shifted between her wrist and Linda’s face. “She’s fine! Now let go of my arm.”

 

“Drop the food and go get my daughter!”

 

“It’s all good, geez!” She looked outside, a look of concern filling her face. “Is that…dammit.” She grabbed Linda’s wrist, squeezing to manually force Linda’s hand open. She set the wing down as she let go of Linda’s hand, then turned around. As she stopped and faced the knife block, the utility knife suddenly disappeared.

 

Yvette smirked. “Ah yeah, he’s got this.”

 

“...He?”

 

“One of the good guys.”

 

Sam drove down the road, trying to remember the Faulkners’ address. As he rounded the same corner for the third time, he spotted an object rocketing into the sky. He stopped, looked up through the windshield, and squinted, trying to identify it. “Is that a spear…?”

 

Lucifer poked his head out the window.  Looks like a spear, Sammy boy!

 

“That’s not normal…” Sam muttered to himself and began to drive towards the launch area.

 

“Are you insane, you flying dickbag?! Stay back!” Rachel pressed the cleaver’s blade against Amber’s throat as the Trickster stepped forwards, dragging it slightly to draw blood. She leaned in, giving a sniff. “Oh, that smells nice.”

 

The Trickster sneered. “That’s your last mistake.”

 

“Oh really…?” Rachel sneered.

 

The Trickster gave a quick look up, then smirked smugly as the spear dropped down. Rachel attempted to duck behind Amber, but the spear followed her movements, curving its trajectory to impale her through the exposed part of her face, missing Amber entirely.

 

A flurry of movements followed instantaneously; the Trickster teleported behind the pair and droved the spear through Rachel and into the ground, anchoring her in place, while two doppelgangers appeared, utility knives in hand, and grabbed each of Rachel’s wrists.

 

“You had a chance,” the Trickster warned. “now you have none.” He squeezed the spear, triggering the weapon to freeze its surface and everything that wasn’t the Trickster’s hands. The section of Rachel’s head impaled with the spear began turning pale and icy, which was the doppelgangers’ cue to lop off Rachel’s hands at the wrists and toss them away. They grabbed Amber and yanked her out of Rachel’s grasp, and the Trickster looked to her. “Go inside.”

 

Sam pulled up as Amber began to run in, and all three of the Leviathan’s assailants looked up in a state of shock and mild horror. The Trickster panicked, fearing it was all over for him.

 

Rule Five was going to need to be enacted…

 

Amber charged in, clutching her throat.

 

“See? She’s okay!” Yvette declared as Linda rushed to her daughter’s side.

 

“I’m bleeding!” Amber declared holding her bloodied hand out. Yvette seemed to instantly move to the side of Amber that Linda wasn’t attached to, and helped her move Amber to the couch.

 

“It’s just a shallow cut, it’s nothing major.” Yvette added, looking to Linda. “Get your medikit, I’ll sit here and guard her.”

 

“How do you know?” Linda pried.

 

“Trust me. Just go get it.” Yvette replied. Linda scurried into her room.

 

“Who are you?” Amber asked.

 

“A friend.” Yvette replied. “I’m here to help.”

 

“You’re another one of them, aren’t you? You’re a trick.”

 

Yvette raised an eyebrow. “I’m very real, sugar cube.”

 

Yvette’s head snapped back as the car engine outside shut off. “Dammit.”

 

Sam turned the car off and hopped out, assessing the situation. He was far less shocked to see three ‘Andrew’s on the lawn trying to kill a Leviathan, and far more shocked to see one of them with a pole of some sort and the other two brandishing kitchen knives.

 

“Crap…” Rachel muttered, swatting at the spear with her handless arms. The moment one of the nubs touched the spear, it stuck to it with sub-zero frost. “Shit…” She then began to yank it away.

 

Sam, deciding to melt the Leviathan first and ask questions later, quickly moved to the trunk, yanking out the chemical spray tank and hose. “Hold it still!” He called out as he closed the trunk.

 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” The Trickster called back, a hint of sass in his tone. Realizing who Sam was, he was honestly shocked that it came out of his mouth in that manner.

 

Sam ran over and hosed Rachel down, melting her down with a minimal amount of hissing and screaming. Several nearby lights turned on.

 

“Crap.” Sam muttered. The Trickster quickly unsummoned his doppelgangers, a lone kitchen knife dropping to the ground. He dislodged his spear, taking a quick whiff of it and wincing. “Ugh, that was it.”

 

“Was what?”

 

“The horrible odor that I could smell. It’s like…bitumen, but with a lingering acridness.” He nodded, certain that the words he used were correct.

 

“Yeah, these suckers are gross all around.” Sam smirked for the first time in a while; there was a weird innocence to the supposedly dead man in front of him that he honestly couldn’t recall him ever having. It was almost akin to Castiel’s lack of pop culture referencing. “Alright, let’s move her into those weeds nearby.”

 

“We aren’t going to dismember her?” The Trickster raised an eyebrow.

 

“She’s toast. We can bury her pretty much like this, unless you wanna completely melt’er.”

 

He looked at the house, looked to the can, then to Sam. “It’s best if we completely destroy it.”

 

“Right.” Sam melted her head, preventing the Leviathan from making any more noise before he finished. Some of the lights began to go out, giving them both some peace of mind for the moment.

 

The Trickster unsummoned his spear and sighed, grabbing onto the semi-solid remains of Rachel and helping Sam move it into a nearby pile of brush.

 

“Can’t help but notice you guys’re the only ones with foliage around.” Sam commented. “Wouldn’t be your doing, would it?”

 

“Not I.” The Trickster chuckled, trying to keep his emotions in check. Keeping to Rule Five was going smoothly so far; Sam didn’t seem too suspicious...yet.

 

Sam smirked, looking directly at the Trickster. “So.”

 

“...Yes?” The Trickster raised an eyebrow, not sure where Sam was going.

 

“Why didn’t our summoning spell work?”

 

He cocked his head to the side. “You tried summoning me?” 

 

“Yeah! We used the right reagents, the right spell, the right everything. We did it three times in a row.”

 

The Trickster smirked. “One does not summon me; I come and go as I please.” He shook his head, chuckling. “You must be desperate to have even thought you could do so.” He leaned in towards Sam. “What in the world were you trying to do with all your fancy failed magic? Because there is no way to conjure myself to your location unless you do something to get yourself on my list. Did you conjure a demon on accident?”

 

Sam’s face filled with heavy confusion and slight agitation. “No, we were trying to summon you, Gabriel.”

 

The Trickster reacted to the angel’s name by pulling back defensively, sliding on a mental mask of shocked recollection. “That name. you’re the second one to call me that name. Why?”

 

“...Because that’s your name?” All the agitation melted from his visage, his features now swimming in utter bafflement.

 

“No, it is not my name. I have thousands of names, and that one is not one of them.” The Trickster straightened his posture, seeing that Sam was emotionally off-set and perfectly uneased, allowing him to take control of the strange conversation. “So is this ‘Gabriel’ pretending to be me, or is he just borrowing my likeness?”

 

Sam turned his head slightly away while still keeping eye contact; a wary look of uncertainty that the Trickster had seen many times before. “...Are you Loki, then?”

 

He smiled. “Ah, good. You’re not completely daft yet.” He poked the end of Sam’s nose, the corners of his mouth curling up before her continued to speak. “Now we are on the same page. So. This imposter. Where can I find him?”

 

“Uh…” Sam looked away. “He’s, uh, dead...now.”

 

“Hm, a shame,” Loki put on a mask of slight disappointment. “I was hoping I could meet him, so I could rip his face off as punishment. Guess I’ll have to wait until the unfortunate time of my demise. Which will honestly be never, but a demigod can dream, can’t he?” He chuckled. “So, I guess the cat’s out of the box now…but since you know me, I would like to know who I am talking to. I have a slight idea, but it’s just a hunch.”

 

“You don’t know who I am?” A hint of crestfallenness and a slight drooping of his shoulders made Loki almost want to hug the poor oversized child standing in front of him; it was almost as if he had stabbed him in the heart. It was almost actually painful to lie to him like this.

 

“I sense that I should, on more than just a Hunter-demigod basis, but unfortunately, no. I don’t.” Loki began walking around Sam, looking him over. “However...you’re very tall, you’re not trying to kill me even though you’re a Hunter, and you seem like a sympathetic kind of guy...I sense that you’re possibly the little Winchester boy, yes? Something like Samson, Samir...”

 

“Sam. Just Sam.”

 

“Sam. Right. Sam Winchester, the Boy King. The one who asks questions before staking. Perhaps I should count my lucky stars; you’re the best luck I’ve had all day, really.” He chuckled.

 

“So you know me, but you don’t know me?” Sam tried to clarify the Trickster’s statement.

 

Loki shrugged in response. “Who doesn’t know the Winchesters? You and your brother are the bedtime story that scares little monsters straight. Bogey monsters check under the bed for you at night.” He chuckled. 

 

Sam looked less than amused, prompting him to stop laughing, and to clear his throat. “My apologies.”

 

“It’s fine.” Sam waved his hand to dispel any bad vibes. "So uh, what brings you out here?"

 

As much as he could hear the angel, from wherever he was residing, screaming at him to change his mind on his decision, Loki chose the path most pitiful; sighing deeply after a short pause and sliding a mask of despair over his face before looking back at Sam. "...To be honest, I'm not sure." 

 

Sam tilted his head to the side. “...You’re not sure.”

 

“It’s…” He huffed. “It’s not important. Not right now.”

 

“No! I, I think it is.”

 

Loki gave a look of confusion. “Why is it important to you, anyways?” He watched Sam reaction, which was more or less an avoidance of his gaze, and smirked. “I see. I am sorry for your loss, then.”

 

He’s so sincere, Sammy! Give’em a big hug and a smooch!

 

Lucifer smirked, pinching Sam’s cheeks, eliciting a sneer from the man’s face.

 

I’ll tell you how I killed him, but you’ll have to ask nicely.

 

Sam drove his thumb into his scar, and Loki gave him a curious look.

 

Awww, Sammy. You’re no fun.

 

He approached Loki, circling around him like a vulture.

 

You see, my baby brother thought it would be funny to kill me like a coward…

 

Lucifer produced an angel’s blade, then stopped beside Loki. The Trickster’s eyes followed Sam’s, and he raised an eyebrow.

 

I took this little pig sticker and BAM~!

 

He swung completely, driving the blade through Loki’s chest, piercing his heart. The Trickster’s eyes filled with shock and horror as Lucifer walked around him, blade still inside and tearing at everything it touched. Lucifer moved so Sam could get a good look as he continued, a look of blissful remembrance painted on the illusory Morningstar’s face.

 

The Trickster clawed at the blade, whimpering lightly as he failed to get the blade out of him.

 

A broken heart for a broken heart; only, well, I can get over his betrayal, but he didn’t walk away from that.

 

Lucifer grinned, twisting the blade, Loki bleeding from the gaping wound and then from his mouth as he gagged on the rush of blood through him. Choking, coughing, he was left to drop to the ground, the blade still lodged in his chest. Sam drove his thumb into the scar harder, the healing bits tearing under the pressure.

 

It’s a pity you couldn’t be there to see it. You just had to leave, didn’t you?

 

“...Samuel? Sam?”

 

Loki’s voice, and prodding finger, shook Sam from his hallucination, and Lucifer and the dead Loki on the lawn disappeared with it. 

 

The Trickster stood within his personal space now, looking into Sam’s eyes with a curiosity and almost a flicker of worry.

 

“Samuel?”

 

Sam blinked rapidly for a moment, then looked to Loki, now standing on tiptoes and leaning against the trailer wall, trying to get a good look into Sam’s brain through his eyes.

 

“Just, just call me Sam.”

 

“Right. Sam. Did you happen to get lost in that large head of yours?” A shit-eating grin of self-satisfaction spread across Loki’s face, proud that he was at least partially keeping pace with the angel’s usual sarcasm.

 

“Yeah. Sorry. You were saying?”

 

Loki pushed off the wall and took a few steps back to prevent a strain in his neck, “I said I’d like to make a sort of alliance.”

 

Sam gave a confused look. “Alliance? With you?”

 

“No tricks, promise!” Loki gave an earnest smile. “I’m not exactly out here doing my usual work, and I have my hands full with these...abominations. Besides, I have the impression that you two have the same goal as I do. So. I propose a temporary alliance between myself and the Brothers Winchester. What do you say?” He held out his hand, remembering that handshakes were an important part of deal finalizing.

 

Sam noted the bandage on the Trickster’s outstretched hand, making Loki titter and retract his hand entirely. “Gauze is such a telling accessory, isn’t it?” Loki’s eyes seemed to focus on Sam’s left hand for a moment, drawing Sam’s attention to how hard he was gripping it still. He let go, smirking to hide his embarrassment.

 

“I’m fine.” Loki snorted, making Sam sigh. “I’m getting better. How about you, huh?”

 

Loki examined his own wrapped hand. “Not sure. It’s...another strange thing that’s happened lately. Nothing important.”

 

“Sure.”

 

Loki raised an eyebrow. “This isn’t one of those...pot-and-ladle situations.”

 

“Pot-and-kettle?”

 

“That one.”

 

Loki waved his healthy hand. “This is a fruitless discussion. Now, do you accept my terms?”

 

“Terms?”

 

“...Of course, you missed those as well. Fine, I shall repeat them.” Loki cleared his throat. “These are my terms; I am willing to work with you in handling your…” He spun his pointer finger and gave a look of concentration. “...cause, with the girl. But!” He poked Sam’s chest. “You have to let me go. No coming for me this time. Next time, if there ever is one, I will be more than willing to play your little cat-and-mouse game. But I have too many problems to deal with at the moment to be concerned with dodging all those stakes you surely have waiting for me.”

 

“Actually, we didn’t know if you were actually Loki or Gabriel or what.”

 

“...Oh. Well, don’t bother making stakes then!” Loki narrowed his eyes. 

 

“Al-alright, calm down. Got it. No stakes. And I’m fine with that deal.”

 

“Good, because if you were not, I would have to do something...drastic.”

 

Sam’s phone rang, drawing their attention. Sam whipped his phone out to find Dean calling him. He held up a ‘one moment’ gesture to Loki, then answered.

 

“Hey Dean.”

 

“What the hell is going on there?”

 

“Stopped a Leviathan attack. Why?”

 

“The cops are coming. They called me, because they got a couple’a domestic disturbance calls at the girl’s house, and I told them you were out there, and they said they’d meet you there.”

 

Sam looked to Loki, holding his hand over the receiver. “If you wanna help, you can hide the remains. Cops are coming.”

 

“Cops?” Loki looked confused. “Ah! Right. Yeah, no problem.” With a snap, the gruesome scene melted into a rather nice looking lawn.

 

“Sammy? You okay?”

 

Sam jumped and took his hand away from the receiver. “Yeah! I’m fine. Talk when I get back?”

 

“I want full details, Sammy.”

 

“You got it.” Sam hung up, looking back to Loki. The flashing lights of police cars were visible now, and they braced themselves for their arrival.

 

“I have an idea. Just follow my logic and act naturally.” Loki replied before firmly grasping Sam’s lapels.

 

“I hope you know what you’re doing…”

 

“I have it.” Loki grinned. “This is the plan…”

 

From inside, Amber had been studying the strange woman in her house. “Who the hell are you?”

 

“I’m a Hunter. Local chapter.” Yvette smirked, then took her last bite of the turkey leg. 

 

“Hunter?” Amber queried.

 

“Well, I don’t hunt game. Hunt monsters, like the Leviathans.”

 

“We’re having a monster problem that we could certainly use some help fixing.”

 

“We can chat about that later. Right now, we relax. Just pretend I’m not even here.”

 

“Hard to forget you’re here, really.” Amber replied.

 

“Trust me, you can.” Yvette smiled, tossing the turkey leg through the air and, somehow, nailing the garbage can dead-center.

 

The lights and siren of a police car rolled up, and Yvette gasped. “Oh, dammit…”

 

“Calm down!” Sam’s voice echoed from outside.

 

“Put your hands up!” A voice shouted from the car.

 

“The hell?” Linda stormed outside to watch in confusion at her usually calm and mild-mannered boyfriend was being handcuffed by a cop, red-faced, shouting, and kicking at Sam. “What’s going on?!”

 

“We had complaints from Father Thompson of screaming and fighting, and we get here and he’s hitting a federal agent.” The officer replied.

 

“What did you do to her?! What did you do to Amber you son of a whore?!” Loki snarled, lunging at Sam.

 

“And he smells like a brewery, on top of it.” The officer rolled his eyes. “Alright, c’mon. Playtime’s over…”

 

Sam cautiously stroked his jaw and straightened his coat. “My partner and I will be down tomorrow to take him with us on those charges. You can just keep him in your drunk tank; I don’t need him puking in my hotel room.” With a warm smile, the officer nodded and dragged the agitated Loki to his car.

 

Linda’s eyes locked on Sam and shot red hot daggers.

 

“Sorry. ma’am.” Sam walked closer to the door of the residence.

 

Amber sighed deeply, listening to the action outside. Within a moment’s span of time, Loki emerged from behind the kitchen island, looking outside cautiously as the officer drove off. His presence caused Yvette to jump. “Holy crap!” She whipped the stick out from her coat, pointing it at Loki.

 

“See, I fucking told you.” Amber replied. “He can make copies of himself.”

 

“I am an ally, please...stop pointing that at me.” Loki leaned nervously against the island. “Please let Sam; I mean, please let the agent in.”

 

“Sam?” Yvette’s shoulders dropped, looking nervous. “Winchester?”

 

“...Yeah.”

 

“Dammit.” She stomped her foot, then continued to speak, her eyes darting back and forth between Linda and Amber. “Gimme a second, I gotta go. He can’t know I’m here. I’ll just see myself out the back.” The girls nodded, giving Yvette plenty of time to leave before opening the door.

 

“Sorry about that, ma’am.” Sam smiled. He turned his head to spot Loki, then gave a smirk. “We needed to distract the cops.”

 

“I didn’t hit you too hard did I?” Loki queried.

 

“Well, it was convincing.” Sam rubbed his jaw. “I’ll be fine.”

 

“Good.”

 

Linda looked between the two. “So wait, you two planned that? And how’d you get out of the car?”

 

“Yes, we staged it,” Loki began to walk around the island. “and I was never in the car, per se.”

 

“Clones.” Amber reiterated, looking at Loki and letting her gaze drift back to Linda.

 

“So you know about him?” Sam queried Amber, gesturing to Loki.

 

“He told me all about himself.” Amber crossed her arms and glared at Loki. “Fucking Norman Bates level psychopath.”

 

“So straightforward you are.” Loki pursed his lips.

 

“You could certainly use a lesson.” Sam mildly chastised.

 

“Hey, I can be perfectly honest! What do you think got me into my current…” He gestured towards Amber.

 

“Right.” Sam rolled his eyes.

 

“So you’re not an FBI agent.” Amber replied. “You’re a Hunter.”

 

“How did you-”

 

“Lucky guess.” Amber smirked. “Besides, what agency would let anybody have their hair as long as yours?”

 

Loki stifled a laugh. “She has a point.”

 

“I’ve heard enough. I’m calling the cops back.” Linda reached for the nearby phone.

 

As Linda reached for the phone, Loki snapped his fingers, making it, and every other phone in the house, disappear.

 

“The fuck…?” Amber shuffled through her pockets nervously, the sudden lack of weight from her phone troubling her.

 

“This conversation does not leave this room. Is that understood?” Loki looked to the girls, who nodded. “Good.”

 

“So you hunt monsters, right?” Amber asked, diverting Sam’s attention. “I take it you’re here for him, then.”

 

“Actually, we’re here for you. He’s just a bonus.”

 

Amber stopped rifling through her pockets and looked at Sam. “...Me?”

 

“The monsters that keep trying to kill you? My brother and I are on a mission to hunt them.”

 

“Brother? You mean the Iceman looking asshole you work with?”

 

Sam pondered the comparison for a moment, then smirked. “I suppose you could say that.” He chuckled, scratching at his hairline. “That’s a rather old movie for you to be referencing.”

 

“We only got a VCR, man.”

 

Sam eyed the entertainment setup, confirming her comment, then looked back to her.

 

"Nice.”

 

Amber turned to Loki in the lull of conversation, scowling. “And I told you to go away!”

 

“You never said how far…” Loki gave a defensive look, not much unlike a ten year old.

 

“Seriously?!” Amber shouted back, tossing her arms up in the air.

 

Loki smirked. "Well, I am a Trickster. We are much like djinn when it comes to that. Make a demand, a wish, and you have to think carefully of the wording you use."

 

“You…ugh.” Amber growled, scrunching her face as she looked away from him.

 

“I don’t think djinn or whatever manhandle young girls.” Linda hissed, narrowing her eyes.

 

Loki sighed. “I was trying to keep her from running and screaming. I wanted to be reasonable.”

 

“Yeah, real smooth.” Linda crossed her arms.

 

“...My tact fails me at times.”

 

“Clearly. And you got a lot of explaining to do about a lot of things.”

 

“This is actually what I planned. Where do you want me to start?”

 

“Start with tonight.”

 

“She has a desire for the unjust to suffer for their crimes. I thought revealing my own actions, which align with her moral compass, would not be as terrifying as it seems to be.”

 

“Uh, I’m not a serial killer, so you are completely off.” Amber replied.

 

“But you protect the innocent, like your mother, from those you judge as being harmful, like her suitors.”

 

“Well I certainly made a good call with you, didn’t I?” Amber held her hands out towards Loki, giving him a look.

 

“I suppose that you would be correct, if I wished you harm. But I don’t. If I didn’t want anything but peace and honesty with you, I would have never revealed myself to you.”

 

“Then why didn’t ya say something the first time we were together?”

 

“Because clearly I’m not good at it.”

 

“...Well, when you’re right, you’re right.” Linda gave a brief chuckle of pained amusement.

 

“And I had to leave the first time, for the record. Hunters, when they find you, do not care about sparing innocent lives.”

 

“But putting your hands all over my daughter and holding her against her will is just fine and dandy, ain’t it?”

 

Loki leaned over the island, gripping the side. “It’s not the same! I was not intending to hurt her.”

 

Linda set her arms akimbo, leaning towards him just as much as he was. “Well it ain’t to me. Hunting people down, hurting them, and not even a halfway decent apology out of you the whole damn time you’ve been standing here to either myself or my daughter!”

 

Loki tilted his head to the side, confused. “All you want is an apology?”

 

“Well not now that I had to say something!” Linda fumed. “I’m done! I want you out!” She slammed her hands on the table. “I want you right the hell out of this town!”

 

The color seeped from Loki’s face. “You don’t understa-”

 

“Oh, I understand.” Linda looked to Sam. “You’re a Hunter, right? You’re here to kill those things?”

 

“Well, uh, yes.”

 

“I want you protecting my daughter. I don’t care what you gotta do.”

 

“I can do that. My brother and I can come and get her in a few hours. Gives her time to pack up.”

 

“Fine with me.” Linda smiled, then grimaced as she turned back to Loki. “Now get.”

 

“As you wish…” He gave a fearful look to Linda, Amber, and Sam as he teleported out of sight.

 

“I don’t think this is the greatest idea, but my brother and I will do all we can.” Sam reassured.

 

Amber sat down on the couch, looking towards the empty island, then to Linda, then to Sam.

 

“You think they’ll be back again? The Leviathans?” Ambers voice sounded unusually quiet and soft.

  
“If they do, get some Borax, mix it with water, and drown them in it. Then call us.” Sam gave a forced smile of confidence; this had just gotten rather complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to take the time to apologize for a lack of an update over the last year. I posted the last chapter several weeks before I became jobless, and I lost my apartment over the holidays. Adjusting to everything at once has been rather emotionally taxing, and at times my emotional stamina wasn't even enough to work on smaller projects (like my Gabe RP blog), let alone working on this chapter. Now that everything in my life is a bit more stable, I'm able to focus more on all my works, including this.  
> The chapter was deleted and rewritten twice over that time period, as well. So. I can guarantee that the next chapter will not take as much to get finished, because part of it is actually written.  
> So, again, thank you all for your patience, and it has been greatly appreciated. I can only hope it was worth the wait.


	6. Veritas II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After having been evicted from the Faulkner residence, Gabriel has to enact one final plan. Amber has a heart-to-heart with Sam about her conflicted feelings on the matter.

From the roof of the Wilder residence, Robert and Carrie sneered as they lowered their binoculars. The sight from the Faulkner’s front lawn was certainly not one they were enjoying.

“Well that went spectacularly horrible, boss.” Carrie commented.

“We don’t have the resources for this.” Robert replied.

“What should we do, then? Should we make that deal?” Carrie pursed her lips.

“We might have to. Corporate said they’re not sending us any more help, and if the Winchesters and the angel team up, we’re gonna need to put as many bodies between us and them as possible.” Robert side-eyed Carrie.

“I hate under the table deals with backwater locals. They’re so...ugh, icky.” Carrie wriggled her fingers and scrunched her nose.

“I know, I know, I hate it too. But we seem to have no choice.”

Back at the Faulkner residence, Sam took a seat on the couch. Amber pawed at her bandaging, drawing the junior Winchester’s attention.

“You alright?” Sam leaned towards her, inspecting the tape job.

“I’m okay.” Amber shrugged. “She did a good job.”

“Yeah, your mom’s pretty good.”

“Not my mom.”

“Hm?” Sam tilted his head to the side.

“That woman. With the big black hair and the green shoes.” Amber gestured the poofiness of Yvette’s hair.

“I didn’t see anybody like that…” Sam looked around.

“Well she left right before you came in.”

“I see. Did she give a name?” 

“No, just said she was a local Hunter.”

“Huh. Alright.” Sam made a face. “Are you feeling alright, at least?”

“Yeah. I just wanna go to bed.”

“Mind if I check your room real quick?”

“Sure. Just don’t touch nothin’ you don’t gotta.”

Sam nodded and followed her to her room, turning to face Linda at the doorframe.

“When I’m done here, I’d like to check your room and the then the rest of the house. I’m then gonna beef up the security around the house. Make this place about as Leviathan-proof as I can.”

“I can’t live in this house forever, I got a job to get to.”

“We can escort you there. Or! I can have Dean stay at the diner with you. Yeah, I’ll call him up after I finish.” Sam smiled warmly, and as soon as he ducked into Amber’s room, Linda sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of her nose.

The wide open acres of land between Edgerton and Midwest were little more than dust and roving weeds with the occasional house, and in the middle of the land, Loki had settled himself down to rest, sitting in the driver’s seat of his Firebird.

“So boss, what now?” A voice called from the back seat. Loki looked back to see Yvette sitting, arms crossed in her lap.

“I’ve made a catastrophe of everything, haven’t I?”

“Just a little. You know the featherbrain’s gonna be pissed.” She looked out the window.

“Did I try too much?”

“I just don’t think they’re ready.”

Loki teleported to the back seat, sitting next to Yvette. “But they must be!”

“It doesn’t help to associate yourself with things that people don’t like. Like murderers.”

“The truth was necessary.”

Yvette whipped her head around, lips pursed and brows furrowed. “They didn’t need that level of truth, Boss! Now everything’s screwed up big time!”

“Then we should consult the angel when it is well on our next moves. I’m feeling tired, anyways.”

Yvette sighed deeply. “...Alright. Fine.” She pulled a soda from the inside of her coat. “Here, have a nightcap.”

Loki unscrewed the cap and began drinking, then stopped and made a face. “...Is there acid in this?”

“A lot of it. It keeps people from throwing it up from the high sugar content. Won’t kill ya, though.”

“Ugh, foul.” Loki left the sour look on his face as he drained the remainder of the bottle. “Next time can you just conjure a milkshake or something with less toxicity?”

“Sure…” Yvette pulled a chocolate bar from inside her coat and began eating it. “You want me to stay while you sleep?”

“Yes, for security. Unless Sam leaves them.” Loki shifted in his seat, sighing and closing his eyes.

“I’ll post some of my kin around to keep an eye out and let me know.” Yvette smiled. “Anything else, Boss?”

“No…” Loki leaned against Yvette, resting his head on her shoulder.

“Go to sleep, Boss. We’ll be fine.” She shifted, letting his head drop into her lap. His body relaxed as he slowly drifted to sleep, and Yvette looked him over.

“...what am I going to do with you, you silly human?” She smirked, then pulled a blanket out of her coat and draped it over him.

Sam finally collapsed onto the couch as he secured the final window. It was two am now, and Lucifer had resorted to singing Henry VIII for the last half an hour as he toiled over every last detail of the house.

He wasn’t going to ask why the travel bottle of men’s shampoo appeared to be filled with gorilla glue, but he had tossed it nonetheless.

As he began to try and tone out the sound of Lucifer singing his twenty-seventh round of the infernal tune, Sam’s phone rang.

Dean, naturally. Thank goodness.

“Hello?” Sam tiredly answered.

“Where the hell are you?”

“Still with the Faulkners. I just Leviathan-proofed their house, and I’m thinking of standing guard for the night. You gonna be okay by yourself?”

“I’ll be fine. Are you gonna be fine?”

“Yeah! Everything’s alright.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Not lying. I think we’ve got enough Borax to melt down half the town if we gotta.”

“Okay, if you say so. I’m gonna hit the hay. Tell me what the hell’s going on then, okay?”

“Yeah. There’s a hell of a lot to talk about.”

“Right. Catch ya later.” Dean hung up the phone, cueing Lucifer to get back to singing and, consequently, keeping Sam awake.

After what seemed like the millionth round of Henry VIII, Linda walked out of her room. Sam stood up from the computer desk, minimizing the browser window regarding Nordic weapons of lore before addressing Linda.

“You get any sleep?” Linda queried.

“No sleep for the wicked.” Sam flashed a tired smile, garnering a less than amused look from Linda.

“Well you didn’t have to be up the whole night. You want some coffee?”

“Sure, if you’re making some.”

Linda smiled, then walked behind the kitchen island to begin getting the coffee ready. “So, what’re ya studying?”

“Oh, nothing, really. Just keeping myself busy.” 

Linda looked around him. “Studying for another...hunt?”

Sam looked back. “Oh! No. Well, technically? But not really. Like I said, it’s just busywork.” Sam scratched the back of his head. “So you said the woman last night, she used just a stick to cut the Leviathan apart?”

“Yes. I thought it was strange, too.”

Sam nodded. “Okay. Alright.”

“That’s it? Just an ‘alright’?” Linda smirked.

Sam shook his head, turning slightly red. “I’m sorry. I’m a little tired.”

“That’s alright, hun. Coffee’ll be up soon.” She set the percolator on, then leaned on top of the island. “So what’s your big plan?”

“Well, my brother, Dean, is gonna be at the diner in plainclothes to make sure things are alright. It’s best to just act like everything’s normal.”

“Alright. So just keep him fed and we’ll see you and Amber after my shift ends?”

“Yup. Then we’re gonna all meet up at our hotel room and finish prepping to get you two out of here.”

“...What?”

“Well, they’re never gonna stop looking for you. So we’re gonna make you two disappear for a while.” Sam smirked. “I think that’s a plan everybody would agree in.”

“My daughter has to graduate! I have to make money!" She lunged forwards, leaning her hands on the counter. "Are you two insane?!”

Sam leaned back and held his hands up. “We can talk about it when we get to the hotel room. But right now it’s looking like we might not have better options.”

“I’m tired of trying to start over. I just want her to finish school, and get to college, and-”

“Well she got herself in this situation with a couple of her friends. We’re just here to get the things that are coming after her for it.”

Linda sighed, looking away. “I thought she finally got her life together…” She looked back at Sam. “She’s been tossed from home to home her whole life. They told me she’d be trouble, too...but she’s a good kid. We’re both just in bad ways right now.”

“I understand.” Sam leaned on the island across from her, drawing her gaze. “I can’t imagine being a single mom was easy. My dad worked this job with the two of us riding shotgun and it wasn’t easy for any of us, either.”

Linda rose an eyebrow. “Your dad raised you in this monster hunting job?” She chuckled. “Surprised to hear that; this ain’t the safest profession for kids, I imagine.”

“My brother and I knew how to use guns at a really early age.”

“...I suddenly don’t feel as bad as I usually do about being a waitress in some two-bit diner…” Linda smirked, then grabbed a pair of mugs. “You want sugar or milk, hun?”

“I’m fine with black.”

“Alright.” She set the mugs down as the coffee finished brewing. “Feel free to use the shower if you want. Towels are on the dryer. Andrew, or, well, whatever he is, has some oversized clothes in his laundry, if you wanna see if they fit ya.”

“...Sure. Thanks.”

Linda grabbed the sugar jar, scooping herself out a few scoops as she began speaking. “So I leave in twenty. Amber should be up soon. I get off at 4, so you’ll have to find ways to keep Amber from leaving the house. Good luck with that.” Linda cracked a grin.

“I’m sure I could draw her attention with a short follow-up question session, then some daring tales from the road.”

“Don’t get too graphic.”

“Nothing you wouldn’t get from a horror movie these days.”

“...I guess that’s the best I could ask for, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Amber’s bedroom door opened. “You guys are so fucking loud…”

“Sorry, honey. I’m going to work. You and Sam are gonna stay here until I get off work, okay?”

“Fine…” Amber sighed, going back in her room. 

The sun rose through the windows of the Firebird, reminding Yvette that morning had come. Sitting in the same position, stoic and silent for hours on end numbed her sense of time; she had forgotten how to do it after being so...animated all the time on her boss’s command.

She’d have to ask her fellow shades to teach her how to do it properly again. Not now. Too many things she probably had to do, once the angel woke up and started barking orders like he usually did.

Realizing that the position he had lodged himself in was probably uncomfortable, she had moved him into the passenger seat shortly after he had gone to sleep, which only served to make him toss and turn, even while the seat was fully reclined for his comfort.

She slid herself next to him, and had become completely enveloped by his arms, his head buried in the groove at the base of her neck. As awkward as she felt, it was the best way to gauge his body temperature, which was the most important thing.

She could feel the faint glow of the archangel lodged in his body, keeping him warm as usual. It was like a tiny campfire in a vast sea of forest trees on a moonless night, giving just enough light to keep her boss’s soul from being devoured by the shadows of the power he housed.

It was at the point when he had made a rather unusually soft and comfortable grunting sort of sound when Yvette was lulled into merely staying still and silent until he woke up. His lack of snoring threw off her perceptions of how humans slept; it had been a long time since she had been around just her boss, or humans in general, while they slept. Didn’t they always comically snore? She couldn’t remember.

An hour after the sun had risen, his body began to steadily radiate more and more heat, and his eyes shot open, radiating celestial light that burned into Yvette’s very being.

“Ow!” She rolled him on his back and shifted her position to the back of the car, rubbing her now-smoking shoulder. “Damn...angel crap.”

The dull golden light filled his eyes for a few moments before fading out, heralding the angel’s awakening. “Ugh…” Gabriel began to sit up, groaning and rubbing his eyes. “Why are we sleeping in the car?” He looked up. “...Wait. Where are we?”

“...In the car.”

Gabriel closed his eyes, siphoning through the memories of the night before. Several seconds into it, he grimaced and irritatedly clawed at the sides of his face. “...Dammit…”

“Hey, I didn’t find out how bad it was until I got there. I was running surveillance on the Hardy Boys like you wanted until I got a long-distance call for backup!”

“No, it’s...it’s my fault for not...socializing him better...augh!” He slammed his fist on the dashboard, setting off the airbag. “Gah!” Summoning his sword, he slashed it, shoving the rapidly deflating bag out of his way. “Dammit!”

“Well, at least they’re safe! Sam’s with them, and the boys’ll be working with us, even if you’re barred from town.”

“Ugh, him and his...sticking to rules.” Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Fine...I need to...crap.” He looked up and back to Yvette. “I need to talk to the girl. One on one.”

“Why the girl?”

“Linda won’t budge if Amber ain’t with me, it seems. I have other reasons, too, but they’re not your business.”

“Whatever. But if you ruin the girl, I will hurt you.”

“Pfffft, I won’t hurt her. Well, nothing unfixable.”

Yvette rolled her eyes. “So what do you want me doing, featherhead?”

“Plan B, of course. Also, check on the house and get Amber here. I’ll set up our little chat. Then back to Plan B.”

“Got it. I’ll get going, then.” Yvette fizzled out, leaving Gabriel to plot out his side of the plan.

Back in Midwest, Robert nervously waited at the front door as Carrie and Sarah rummaged through the fridge.

“Do demons eat beef?” Sarah queried.

“Are they bringing any of their dogs? We could get some of the bones in the attic…” Carrie added.

“Ladies, just as long as there isn’t any salt, they’ll eat anything.”

Carrie and Sarah looked at each other, then at Robert. “...Is there salt in salad dressing? We can make a salad!” Sarah clapped excitedly.

Carrie grinned. “A vinaigrette doesn’t have salt, I think. I think it’s just oil and vinegar. We have those here, right?”

“You’re really good at this, Carrie. I’m envious.” Sarah blushed as she rummaged through the fridge.

“Well, I was transferred out here on a promotion; I was running a Biggerson’s in Tulsa, and we got a ridiculous amount of customers on a promo I suggested.”

“Oh man, that’s awesome! I’ve been over in Oregon, running a chain of local convenience stores.”

Carrie leaned her head out of the kitchen doorway, looking towards Robert. “So Robby, what were you doing before we all got hooked up?”

“I was working for one of Edgar’s lieutenants, supervising one of our meat processing plants. Thought my leadership qualities made me perfect for this little venture.” Robert scowled. “This’s been embarrassing-” He turned his head towards Carrie. “And thank you for reminding me about how good things were before I got here. If this gets any worse, I’m gonna get bibbed...”

Carrie lurched back into the kitchen. “Oh man...he’s in a bad mood, Sarah. Let’s just get the salad and some finger food done for hors d’ouvres.”

“...Should we use actual fingers?”

“I was thinking we could make some salad and maybe something in the oven.”

“Hey, I found a potato!”

“We could make some homemade chips, without salt.”

“Nice! Every loves potato chips.” Sarah smiled.

“We’re making potato chips, Robert!” Carrie looked out and smiled towards him.

“Do it quietly. I can’t hear the door with you two squawking.” 

Carrie frowned, slinking back into the kitchen. “He’s really broody.”

The doorbell rang, and Robert leapt off the couch and let several guests in. “Come right on in; sorry for a lack of food…”

The man and woman, who looked much like a married couple, smirked. “Oh, that’s alright! We were gonna bring over some pasta salad, but we didn’t think ya’ll ate that.”

“We eat everything.” Robert smiled. “Please, take a seat on the couch.” The couple, as well as a pair of truckers, walked in and took seats. Robert slid his computer chair out to face the couch, plopping down onto it and getting as comfortable as he could. “So, while my associates make some snacks, let’s talk business.”

Back at the Faulkner residence, Sam finished his morning shower, feeling slightly less dead and slightly more caffeinated. With coffee flowing through him, he wrapped a towel around his waist and began to think long and hard about what the next course of action would be.

Leaving the bathroom and approaching the laundry area, he heard a squeak from down the hall.

“Oh geez!” Amber flew back into her room, slamming her door shut. After a few moments, she opened the door back up. “Dude, you couldn’t warn me that you were gonna be showering or something?!”

“Sorry!” Sam leaned back and made a face, then located what appeared to be a pile of clothes with a man’s shirt on top. “Uh, your mom said Andrew had some oversized clothes?”

Amber cautiously leaned her head out to look at him. “Yeah. I bet some of them could even fit you.” She gave him a swift once-over, then raised an eyebrow. “Nice ink. Never seen that before.”

Realizing what she meant, Sam gave a quick nod. “It’s an anti-possession tattoo. Keeps demons from possessing me.”

“Is that like, regulation or something, for being a Hunter?” Amber looked away, trying to avert her gaze.

“Not really. Most Hunters don’t get as knee-deep in demons as we do.”

“So are you like, high-tier badasses or something?”

Sam smirked. “Or something.” He looked down to the laundry pile and spotted something familiar as Amber ducked back into her room.

Picking up the shirt, he immediately recognized it as one of Dean’s henleys that had been put in their laundry. Underneath was a pair of his boxers, and a pair of Dean’s jeans; in fact, very little was in the pile that didn’t belong to either him or Dean.

Sam’s mind raced, hitting a bothersome conclusion. He’d have to wait to make any queries.

Dressing himself in a hurry, he smoothed out his outfit then knocked on Amber’s door.

“Hey, I’m all set. Thanks.”

“Thank goodness.” Sam stepped away from the door, letting Amber glide past him to the cabinets.

“God fucking dammit! He must’ve eaten them all…” Amber sneered, slamming her stash cabinet door closed. “Fucking...ugh. Fine.” She then scurried to the pantry as Sam retrieved the medkit to wrap his hand in gauze.

Amber settled down with a bowl of oatmeal, looking glum as she watched him wrap his hand. “You too, huh?” Sam looked up at her in curiosity. “Sorry. Just…” She looked down. “Linda said he’s in a bad way. She dropped ‘im with a Vicodin when they got here.”

“That bad, huh?” Sam queried.

“...Do you think he’s alright out there?” Her pupils widened. “I mean, like, he’s a murdering monster, but-”

“You care about his well-being. Yeah. I know.”

Amber leaned in towards Sam. “...Is that weird?”

“Not as weird as you think.”

“But you kill monsters.”

“Not all monsters are monstrous. I mean, most of them will try to kill you and eat you, but some aren’t so bad. Some of them try to get around having to kill anyone to feed off stuff they can only get from us. Gods, though...pretty capricious. Well, as you can see.” 

“You’ve met a lot of gods? Like Zeus and shit?”

“Yeah. Met a lot of gods, demons, angels...most of them are dicks.”

“Even the angels?” A flicker of pain filled her eyes.

Sam hated to admit it to her, but she was asking. “Unfortunately, yeah, even them.”

Amber looked down at her oatmeal, poking at it with her spoon for a few moments. Sam frowned, then decided to try and cheer her up.

“Hey, we’ve met a few good ones, too. We’ve met a few good demons, too, as weird as that sounds.”

Amber looked up at him, trying not to laugh. “That sounds really weird.” 

“Well, in my line of work, help comes from weird places more often than you’d think.”

“...You mean...maybe Andrew really does give a shit?”

“He did ask me to help him save you guys from these Leviathans, which even for a demigod, is a risky move. I think his concern’s for real.”

Amber bit her lip, then looked back down at her oatmeal.

“Well whatever he did, I doubt your mom would have kicked him out if she didn’t think you guys were in danger.”

“He just...restrained me. I guess it wasn’t like, painful or anything. I was just really freaked out.” She looked up at him. “I mean, this guy you hardly know comes into your house and a few days later, he’s doing magic tricks in your kitchen and telling you he goes around killing people and, oh, he’s a god? Wouldn’t you be like, trying to run away? I mean, you’re a Hunter, so probably not, but like, I didn’t even know about all this crazy shit until last night, so like...he was telling me all this shit and he sounded batshit crazy and I thought he was like, actually doing a monologue like in the movies when the bad guy kills you right before he tells the hero all his plans, and I just-...” She deeply sighed, looking away. “I mean, he like, saved me from that thing pretending to be Rachel. I don’t know.”

“It’s a lot to take in. It’s alright.” He placed a hand on her shoulder for comfort, putting on a stoic visage.

“...is it always this hard?”

“Hard?”

“To not know how to feel about whether you should trust them or not?”

“...Always.”

A knock on the door drew their attention, and Sam grabbed his pistol that had been on the floor in front of him, tucking it between the right side of his back and his jeans as he approached the door. Amber silently scampered into her room, bowl of oatmeal in hand.

Linda arrived at the diner just in time to spot Dean making his way over.

“So, you’re the one I talked to on the phone?” Linda smiled.

“That would be me.” Dean nodded once in confirmation.

“Coffee’s on me, then. Black, right?” She opened the door for him.

“Yeah.” Dean smiled and grabbed the door for her, gesturing for her to come in.

“Gonna want the paper, too?”

“Yeah.” Dean looked around, then took a seat in the middle of the room, gaining full view of the area that Linda traversed.

“How about some cherry pie, too?”

“Oh, I shouldn’t. But I will.” Dean smiled warmly.

“Coming right up.”

“Hey Linda, Dan called. Said a maintenance guy’s coming over to check our pipes.” The cook shook his head as he informed Linda.

“Dan can’t do it himself?”

“Hey, he owns the place; if he’s feeling lazy, he’s got the right to just hire a schmuck over to fix it!”

“I’ll keep my ear out for maintenance schmucks, then.” Linda rolled her eyes.

Sam cautiously opened the door, revealing Yvette on the other side.

“Oh...hey.” Yvette made a face. “Awkward…”

Sam looked her over, noticing her leather ensemble, yellow tank top, and bright green shoes. “Is this your normal ‘not-at-work’ attire?”

“Yeah, it’s…” Yvette looked herself over. “Ya know, my casual look.” 

Even though he had realized that she was who Amber had talked about, Sam decided to give her the runaround. “You know the Faulkners personally?”

“Kinda.” She looked in, past Sam. “Is Linda home?”

“Why do you need to know?”

Amber poked her head out from her room, prompting Yvette to perk up. “Hey hun! How are ya?”

“Hey! She’s cool, Sam.”

Sam looked back at Amber, then to Yvette. “...Fine.” Sam opened the door, letting Yvette in.

“Thanks.”

Sam stopped her, gesturing for her to hold her hands out.

"This again?"

"Security measures." Sam sprayed her hands in a liquid Borax solution from a nearby mini spray bottle. After giving the solution ample time to give any kind of reaction, Yvette smiled.

"I'm clean. Can I come in?"

Sam gestured for her to do so.

“Sam, she’s the one who saved Linda’s life.”

“Oh, don’t put me up on a pedestal…” Yvette waved the comment off as she walked into the kitchen. “Surprised to see you here, Sam.”

“Why’s that?”

Yvette spun and turned to face Sam. “Well, I thought you’d be back at the hotel with Dean.”

Amber walked out, looking between Yvette and Sam. “You two know each other?”

Sam leaned to view Amber. “She’s our hotel maid.” He focused back on Yvette. “You, you saved Linda last night? With what, a stick?”

Yvette hunched up slightly at his queries, her voice dropping a notch. “I got my style, you got yours.”

“Maybe.”

Amber looked between them. “Am I...missing something?”

Sam smirked. “Maybe. Perhaps our friend could help explain herself, right Loki?”

Yvette gave him a confused look. “Huh?”

“You heard me.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“You show up at just the right time, with the right skills, and you’re ready to help out. You’ve been watching Dean and I the entire time, pushing us here so that we’d help you, even when you didn’t want to say it out loud. Whole bowl of chocolate mints? So obvious.”

Yvette laughed. “Wait, you seriously think I’m Loki, the Norse Trickster God.” Yvette cackled once again. “Who slipped a mickey in your coffee, kid?”

Sam’s faced slipped into a visage of shock momentarily, but he continued. “Then I’m sure you can explain how mine and Dean’s laundry ended up in this house, under the guise of his laundry.”

Yvette opened her mouth to speak, but no words seemed to want to leave. She closed her mouth, painting a smug look of defeat across her face as she gave him a slow clap. Amber’s face filled with shock and she backed away towards Sam.

“...So that's where I screwed up, huh?” Yvette smirked. “Outed by dirty laundry. Ha! However, you’re only partially right.”

“So, what? You’re a lackey?” Sam arched his eyebrows in confusion.

“Lackey’s such a dirty word. I prefer assistant.” Yvette replied, crossing her arms.

“So you’re an illusion.” Sam queried, narrowing his eyes.

Yvette sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes. “You humans have such a narrow perception. I am a sentient being; illusions are not.”

“So...Andrew sent you here?” Amber queried.

“Obviously. He’s my boss, I do what he orders me to,” Yvette held up a hand. “which reminds me. Sam, don’t you have something to do?”

“Me?” Sam poked his chest to clarify.

“Yes, for appearances’ sake. For my boss?”

His eyes widened. “Oh! Right! Right. So he sent you to watch her while I go out and get the decoy out of jail.”

“You got it!” Yvette winked at Sam. 

“So your orders are to stay here while I clear that up for him?”

“Yup, pretty much.” Yvette smiled coyly.

“Um, alright. Sure, sure. Thanks.” Sam gave a brief smile, then patted himself down for his keys. Finding them on the desk, he gave another smile to Yvette, then to Amber. “I’ll be back in 15 minutes, tops.”

“We’ll be fine, just us girls.” Yvette chuckled, teleporting to Amber’s side and resting her arm around Amber’s shoulders. Amber looked at Yvette with a dubious stare, which the shade met with an infectiously warm smile. “Oh, I don’t bite. And if I did, Boss’s got me all caught up on my shots.” Yvette chuckled.

Sam gave a big warm smile. “Alright. You guys got my number?”

“I do, don’t worry.” Yvette smiled.

“Great. I’ll be right back.” Sam carefully let himself out. Once the sound of his car’s engine was far off in the distance, Yvette turned to face Amber. 

“So. Just you and me.” Yvette smirked.

“...Yeah.” Amber looked away.

Displeased with the lack of eye contact, Yvette leaned to the side, smiling as she looked Amber in the eyes. “Hey, cheer up, sweet pea. What’s got ya down?”

“I...I’m just worried about Andr-...your quote-unquote boss.”

“Would you feel better if I brought you to him for a bit?”

“Sam might not li-”

Yvette stood upright. “Nonsense! Sam’ll be fine. Let’s go!”

With a snap, the duo instantly teleported away.


	7. Proxy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the Trickster in the Doghouse, the Archangel makes some flashy, risky plans happen.

In the blink of an eye, Amber and Yvette stood in the middle of a wide open field outside of town, where the Firebird and its owner sat, waiting.

With her back to the Firebird, and obscuring Amber’s view, Yvette smirked briefly before wincing as her body began to smoke. “Fine! I’m going…”

With a snap, Yvette left, and all Amber could see ahead of her was a wall of bright golden light that burned the whole of her as she tried to stare through it.

Dropping to her knees, Amber shielded her eyes and shrieked in agony.

“...A little too much, then?” Gabriel called out, leashing his Grace once more. “You can look now.”

Cautiously looking up and opening her half-blinded eyes, Amber looked up to gaze upon the field again. Despite being unable to see much, she could make out most of the surroundings around her either by actually being able to see it, or by guessing what the blurry shapes were. The sight she could make out was bizarre to her, at best.

The Firebird sat in an unevenly grown out field; a large swath of field in an arc around the car was overgrown in lush weeds and foliage, while everything else was near bare.

Atop the car sat Gabriel, his wings partially shielding his body in a resting position, his eyes alight in a dull golden glow.

“You alright, sweet pea? C’mere-” A wave of his hand shifted Amber across the field, from curled up on the ground to curled up on the hood of the Firebird mere inches in front of Gabriel. The sudden sensation of metal under her hands made Amber push up and away in surprise. “lemme patch you up…”

As he reached out with a cautious left hand, Amber pulled away, halting the hand’s movement and bringing a questioning look to the angel’s face as his fingers curled back in hurt recognition..

“This...this is an illusion.” Amber spoke coldly, pulling away more as her eyes darted around to examine the whole of him, despite the fact that her vision was severely damaged. “You had yo-your little...servant bring me here to screw with me.”

“No, not at all. Just need to talk to you about some things.”

“Well no shit.” Amber scrunched her nose. “I need to talk to you about some things.”

Gabriel gave the smallest of smirks in simple lip curls. “Is that so? Then why are you so afraid of me, huh?”

Amber shifted her body defensively, keeping her eyes pointed warily in his general position. It took several moments, but a realization flickered in the archangel’s eyes.

“...Oh. I get it. You don’t trust me. Don’t blame you, really. I’ve been...well, trying too hard.” Gabriel looked down at his right hand, looking it over as an excuse to focus his gaze elsewhere as he spoke. “Not the best guy in the world when it comes to socializing, really trying to mingle with humans, that is. Think Linda was really the last human I tried really hard to do so with, now that I think about it. Been trying to see how best to crack you; you don’t like it when I try to shower you and Linda with fancy-type stuff, you don’t like it when I play pranks on you-”

“Whoa, whoa, wait. That was you?!” Amber narrowed her eyes.

Gabriel looked up. “What, you tried braining me with the sink; I thought you’d enjoy a few little liquid explosions to the face back!” His mischievous grin re-emerged and spread like wildfire across his entire visage.

“You turned me into a big fucking joke in front of all my friends! In front of the whole school!”

“Well, only in front of the Saturday cram session kids...:”

Amber sneered in response. “Dude! That’s like, everybody who matters!”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “It’s just one stupid chain of crap that happened; it won’t matter in the long run.”

“You’ve never gone to high school, have you.”

“Well, you got me there.” Gabriel scratched the back of his head. “Okay, okay. As a token of good faith, I have the power to just...make that day never happen. rewrite the narrative. Just with the snap of my fingers...if you ask nicely.” With a waggling of his eyebrows, Gabriel raised his left hand to snap his fingers.

Amber sighed deeply. “...Please?”

“Fine, done.” He snapped his fingers. “Never happened. Nobody remembers anything weird happening yesterday at school except you, me, and the Winchesters.” Gabriel grinned widely. “Now, can we continue?”

“No.” Amber crossed her arms.

“...No?” Gabriel scrunched his face, displeased.

“No. No, first, you tell me what the hell all this-” Amber waved her hands around, seeming to gesture at the enormity of his wingspan. “is. What is this?”

“Well if you let me fix your parboiled peepers, you could see for yourself. Then, I could explain out whatever you want.”

Amber sighed deeply. “Fiiiiiine.”

Gabriel smirked and gently held his hand over her face, channelling Grace through him and repairing her eyes. The strain sent a aching pain through his halo, giving him a painful headache and making him wince as he finished. After a few test blinks, Amber’s freshly restored eyes darted about; in their restored state, the details became clearer to her, down to the slight twitches the middle wings made as he breathed and the gentle breeze blew through the feathers, as if they were more sensitive to the world than the other two sets. As Gabriel unclenched his eyes and relaxed, Amber could see that the shimmer of his Grace over his irises flowed like an iridescent cloud of gold passing over illuminated goldenrod glass panels. 

The overall otherworldly nature struck Amber with awe more than it did fear or confusion; the air even felt calm around them, if a touch breezy.

Gabriel couldn’t help but feel a twinge of something painfully nostalgic in her gaze and in her mind; he could hear her thoughts, the effort of her conscious mind stamping out any hope that the truth was, in fact, true.

“...What? Did I fix your vision too well? I didn’t accidentally zap you up with near-literal hawk eyes, did I?”

“They look...real…”

“Well, they are.” He smirked. “Surprise.”

He stretched them out, wincing momentarily as the middle wings reached their full length. He rolled his shoulders, moving the wings and accentuating the pain to his true form. As much as he was burning himself away, as much as it pained him, he had to continue. If he succeeded in his mission, then it would all be worth it.

Amber’s gaze soured, and she lightly pushed against the car roof, moving herself away from him. “...This is another trick.”

Gabriel’s wings drooped slightly as he sighed deeply, looking away. After a few moments, he looked back at her. “...What would I have to do to prove it wasn’t?”

“You can do pretty much everything! So...I don’t know.”

Gabriel looked back at her, a small spark of hope animating his movements. “Well I can tell you for a fact that Tricksters certainly can’t heal other people like I just did with you.”

Amber narrowed her eyes and leaned in towards him. “But how do I know I wasn’t just made to believe I was blinded?” 

Gabriel shrugged. “You have to take me at my word. You seem to have a problem with that, though.”

“Ya know, it might be because you won’t tell me who you really are first.” Amber crossed her arms.

Gabriel furrowed his brows. “You are quite the petulant child sometimes.” He sighed. “Fine. Okay. For the sake of not wasting any more of anyone’s time, they call me Gabriel.”

Amber’s features loosened as she cocked her head to the side.

“I am exactly who, and what, you think I am. And I can explain.”

“Okay, now you’re bullshitting me.”

“No tricks. Not this time. These aren’t for decoration. Again, I offer whatever I gotta do to prove my actual divinity to you.”

“Okay then, O Messenger of God, how the hell does an angel, especially an archangel, get off going around being a damn serial killer?”

“Well, for one, nobody’s really paying all that much attention to me, and two, have you even read the Bible? We’re killing people left, right, and center in there!” Gabriel swung his arms out, his wings following his gestures and startling Amber slightly. “At least I have a method. I pretend I’m just a plain old Trickster, and screw with people who are absolute dicks. I don’t kill everybody, ya know. One time? I kidnapped a frat boy and played a little game of ‘Alien Abduction: Probe Edition’ with him after he damn near put his frat’s pledges in the hospital ”

Amber’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yeah! Made him slow dance with one of the little buggers, too, for good measure. Left him alive to spread the word. So. For the record. I don’t kill everybody.”

Amber shook her head. “Man, you don’t get it. You really are out there.”

“And one time, I got those Winchester Boys pretty good. First off, they got wind of me and Yvette double-teaming a college professor in the Morals and Ethics division who was sleeping around with all his students. So when they got there, I got my assistant Yvette to pass around a rumor about some murdering ghost chick to lure them into a fake ghost hunting case, then I got them to get into one of their little slapfights after a series of suspicious little tricks.”

“A slapfight?” Amber rolled her eyes. “Lame.”

“Yeah well, nobody ever accused them of being cool. Anyways, so first I took Sam’s laptop and froze the screen to Dean’s favorite porn site, then I let those two bicker about it a bit, then I swiped the laptop entirely. So Sam was furious, and then he threatened to slash the tires on Dean’s beloved car, and I thought that was brilliant, so I led Dean around in circles through a sewer run that involved a dead animal-testing scientist that just so conveniently led to his car, slashed tires and all like Sam threatened. I swiped Sam’s money clip earlier in the day and made sure to stick it right next to the car, so Dean just let loose in his little yappity way, and then the little slap boxing routine broke out.”

Amber’s attempts to restrain her laughter finally failed, and she threw her head back and cackled. “Oh my god! That’s great!”

“I know, right? One of my most elaborate! Well, next to the time I got those two again by hawking them in a pocket dimension I lovingly call ‘TV Land’. Made them act out a bunch of TV shows they absolutely hated. Had to annoy them enough to get them to do some stuff I needed them to do. They didn’t do it like I wanted them to, but at least it was entertaining while it lasted!”

“Whoa, okay, TV Land? Like...were they actually on TV?” Amber’s eyes widened.

“No, no, it was like...a little...you understand what a pocket dimension is?”

“Not really.”

“It’s like, we’re right here, in our dimension, so I created a little space outside of where you and I and Linda and everybody exist, and I put them in it. So they existed in a place that was the same as here, but with only people I created to interact with them in it. Sorta like that video game everybody likes where they drown everybody in the house in the backyard pool or lock them in rooms with no bathrooms. I prefer the scenario with lighting the house on fire with the bad cook in the house, to be honest.”

“So Tricksters can’t do that, I’m betting.”

“Nope, only Archangels, like myself.” Gabriel leaned forwards, his wings moving to wrap around his back and sides. “Tricksters can only manipulate the things around them; they can’t create anything tangible like I can. They can alter something’s appearance, or make shadows solid enough to play a part, but I can actually turn nothing into something 100% genuine. Well, not nothing, but what looks like nothing. And I can move things too; got my own little pocket dimension full of treasures and goodies. Even got a couple books from the Alexandria Library that I promised wouldn’t ‘magically be found’ for a couple hundred years, yet. But don’t tell anybody about those.”

“...sure…” Amber scrunched her face.

“Okay, okay. I’ll prove it.” He took his coat off, the fabric flowing through the wings as if the appendages didn’t even exist, placing it between them. “Okay, check the pockets.”

She began checking the pockets, pulling near-full handfuls of fun-sized candies from the front pockets. “Oh geeze, how did you-”

“Keep searching those. I know that’s not all of it…” She gave him a look, then reached in again and removed his wallet and his carkeys, then eyed him while reaching in a third time while his face seemed to contort into a grin suggesting her to continue.

She slowly pulled out a lotus flower and a corded bracelet decorated in tiny skull beads carved from bone. Gabriel grabbed those as his cheeks flushed. “Whoops, sorry. Wrong pile draw. Heh.” He shoved them back into the coat pocket. “Okay, try again.”

Amber gave him a suspicious look, then put her hand in again, pulling out a rubber chicken.

“Ha! You weren’t expecting that, were ya?”

“Really? A rubber chicken?” She unceremoniously dropped it onto the car hood with a frown.

“...What? Are they not cool with the kids anymore?”

“I thought you had something important to say.” Amber’s voice dropped to a deadpan out of annoyance.

“But you wanted proof!” Gabriel furrowed his brows once more. “Okay, okay, last one, then we get down to business.”

He rolled up his flannel’s sleeves up to his elbows, then showed off that nothing was attached to them. “Okay, see, nothing.” He began leaning forwards, reaching around Amber. “And now,” He reached to the back collar of her shirt, slowly manifesting a gladiolus stalk as he pulled back. “something.” 

“...Okay, that was a trick. This isn’t real.”

“No, this is me, slowly burning my Grace away to prove my point to you, because you don’t believe me.”

“...Grace?”

“My being. What I’m made up of. You know what I mean. It’s a thing. And I don’t have a lot of it right now.” His tone became somber, his features and frame simultaneously loosening as he tried to be more serious and frank. “That, in essence, is why you’re here right now.”

Amber blinked a few times, trying to make sense of the situation. “...Huh?”

He poked the top of her sternum with the tip of the gladiolus sprig. “I...need your help. Because I’m kinda...dying. Sort of. I might be dead. I’m not sure, actually. But whatever’s wrong with me, I know that you are the only person who can really help me right now.”

“Me? Really? Why not Linda?”

“Because you have something I need to keep me from dying.”

Amber crossed her arms, glaring. “So this is it, huh?”

“Huh?”

“This is why you got with Linda isn’t it. To drag me out here and...take whatever it is you need from me.”

Gabriel’s eyes widened. “No! No. Not at all. I didn’t even consider asking you for your help until I sat down this morning and realized how much crap we’re all in here. As all-powerful as I am...right now? I’m a wreck. Been so since I got here. I’ve only gotten worse, and these monsters? They’re getting craftier. I’ve only got so many tricks up my sleeves and relying on the Hardy Boys is only gonna get us all killed. So I’ve got only one option left to get us all out of here alive, but I need you to help me. I’m willing to give you whatever you want, kiddo.”

“...What is it that I have that you want?”

“Uh...well...it’s a little complicated…” He scratched the back of his head.

“I don’t care if you’re an Archangel or just some fancy Trickster, or whatever the hell you are. If you need my help, it had better be something I’m not gonna lose.”

“Of course not. I’ll take good care of you the whole time, I promise.”

“Like you have been?”

“Think ‘pancake breakfast’ until you die. Like that. Hell, I’ll even drag you out East so you can pick your own bottle of maple syrup to bring home.”

A small smirk spread across her face. “...I’m listening.”

Meanwhile, Sam had arrived in the Midwest Police Department, and as he walked in, the sheriff was already waiting for him.

“Mr. Smith! Good morning! Want some coffee?” He held a cup up towards Sam.

“No thanks. Already had my tea. But thanks for offering.” Sam gave a quaint smile.

“Alright.” The sheriff’s cheer faded slightly as he sat the cup back down on his desk. “I guess I have some for later, then.”

“So how’s he doing? Sobered up?” Sam set his arms akimbo as he got straight to business.

“Hasn’t moved an inch all night. It’s a little freaky, if you ask me.” The sheriff raised an eyebrow, then grabbed the cell key ring off the desk. “I did all the paperwork for ya. You two are all set.”

“You didn’t have to…”

“Well, I figured I’d get you two in and out. The FBI’s prolly got more in store for this guy than we got, I figure.” He chuckled. “Right this way.”

Walking over to the cells, Sam’s nose picked up on a strange lingering smell in the air, something he couldn’t remember the station smelling like before. With all the newly installed air fresheners around, they were throwing him off.

Sam decided to be mindful of his pistol’s location as they continued.

At the end of the row, the doppelganger sat quietly and still, like a doll on a shelf. He shook the eerie vibe and called out to him.

“Hey! You alive over there?” As if he had flicked a switch, the doppelganger seemed to spring to life, and turned its head to look at him.

“I am just biding my time, waiting for you.”

The doppelganger’s voice held less life in it than Loki’s, but at least it fit the rest of it.

“Yeah well, you’re gonna have a fun time with me and my partner, let me tell ya.” Sam gave the doppelganger a playful smirk as the sheriff opened the cell.

Sam placed a pair of handcuffs on the doppelganger, then began to escort it out. As they began to make their way to the main hallway, a breathy voice pinged the back of Sam’s mind, almost incomprehensible, and certainly unrecognizable. 

_Keep on guard, Sam._

Lucifer focused himself into Sam’s view, next to him. **“Hey, who’s calling you?”**

Sam turned the doppelganger around to get its attention, and its eyes darted to focus on him.

_...Can you sense them, Sam? Probably not. But I can. Keep alert._

**“Oh, it’s the ghost. Buzz off, this is my buddy!”**

Sam looked ahead, spotting the deputy and three officers standing at the doorway.

_Try to crouch behind me!_

The doppelganger did its best to stand as tall as it could, positioning itself strategically in front of most of Sam’s vital organs. 

**“...You don’t think this is an ambush, do ya? Why would the cops ever try to kill little ol’ you?”**

Sam crouched, doing his best to shrink himself behind the doppelganger as he contemplated just how well a creature made of shadows and illusion magic could act like ballistic gel and soak bullets.

“Well, it’s been fun, Winchester,” The sheriff drew his pistol and brandished a pair of blackened eyes. “but we got a good little call this morning from our boss telling us to get rid of ya. No hard feelings.”

The doppelganger smirked as a trio of fellow shades, disguised as regular civilians, shifted in with full buckets of salt water in tow.

Before any of the officers could react, the trio of bucket-wielding shades drenched the three outside officers, causing them to shriek and fume in pain from the brine.

The sheriff turned around in surprise, and the doppelganger lunged, grabbing the gun-wielding hand. The sheriff fired, the bullet seemingly absorbed into the doppelganger’s left thigh as it clamped its hands around the sheriff’s wrists. In a blink, the handcuffs had shifted position from the doppelganger’s wrists to the sheriff’s, and the doppelganger quickly raised the sheriff’s arms straight upwards, then shoved him against the wall, phasing the chains of the handcuffs through the heating pipe, locking him in place.

It looked back at Sam, then gestured for Sam to leave as the other shades shuffled the other officers away from the door.

Lucifer stuck his tongue out at the doppelganger, only to get a sneer back from it. **“Lucky.”**

As Sam ran out, an unearthly shriek rose from the building, and the lights flickered out. He had to check on Amber.

Flying high above the speed limit, he returned back in under five minutes. He fumbled the house key, but a quick recovery allowed him to open the door without dropping the key entirely. Shaking, he burst through the door to find Amber in the kitchen, rummaging through the pantry.

She looked over, staring at him. “Where’ve you been?”

“We have to go. Now.” He looked around. “Where’s Yvette?”

“She said she had to go help Andrew out with something. Told me to tell you to meet her at the hotel when you were done with your...whatever it was.” She stopped rummaging and stepped out of the kitchen area. “...Is everything okay?”

“The whole police force here is full of demons, and-”

“Demons? Actual like, horns, tails, and pitchforks demons?”

“Yeah! Well, they’re not like that really, but...just, we gotta go.”

Amber grabbed a bag of yogurt covered raisins on the counter. “No need to tell me twice.”

Jumping into the back of the car, Amber ripped the bag open and began pecking at the contents. Sam slid across the front hood and quickly got into the driver’s seat, getting the car moving and out of town in record time.

The diner, showing no signs of excitement or terror, was leaving Dean slightly antsy.

“So uh...how did you two meet?” Dean smiled as Linda poured him some coffee.

“Me and...him?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s a silly story…”

“We’re just killing time here, so why not?”

“Well, I was drunk, my ex Clyde was trying to pick me up, and he just showed up. Hustled Clyde for all the beer money he had until he had Clyde making deals to back off of me for good. Kept playing that fool like a fiddle; I guess that makes more sense now, knowing his...profession..”

The back door opened, signaling the arrival of the maintenance man. His silhouette shuffled soundlessly past staff and into the boiler room.

“That guy’s pretty late.” Dean commented, sipping his coffee.

“One bad traffic light in the city can really slow ya down out here.” Linda smirked. “Not that you can’t speed it up a little on the open highway, ya know?”

“Yeah. So, you were saying?”

“Well, once he more or less won my freedom in a game of pool, I was...thankful. This was long before Amber was in the picture for me, mind you, so going to his hotel with him wasn’t something I thought twice about. So next morning, I come to find he’s a traveling salesman on a little vacation, or so he says. Ain’t got a real proper place to stay. Thought to myself, ‘This guy just saved your behind, and he seems a nice fellow. Least you could do is offer him your couch instead of letting him bleed himself dry in a hotel.”

“So you had him sleeping on your couch?”

“Not just the couch, but I doubt you want any of those stories.”

Dean’s face scrunched into a severely fake smile. “Not this early, ma’am.”

Linda smirked. “Thought not. Anyways, he decided to use my base as home for half a year, and then these two strange fellows came to Cheyenne, where I had been living at the time, and he just up and left. I think I can guess who, or what, they were, now.” Linda sighed deeply. “It wasn’t so bad. Best time I had, now that I think about it. Been having trouble with men ever since; I thought he’d cursed me or something.”

“While it wouldn’t surprise me...I think he likes you too much. Which is weird.”

“Weird? Why’s that weird?”

“Or maybe he just hates us.”

“Probably that. I mean, you guys try to kill him a lot, right?”

“Hey now! It’s not like he hasn’t done that to us! He apparently killed me a whole bunch of times and wiped my memory of it!”

Linda leaned back slightly, narrowing her eyes.

“Maybe he just doesn’t like you.”

“I assumed as much.“

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean spotted movement from the bakery item cupboard. He looked in, and saw everything in place. Looking down at his coffee and pie slice, he set them aside and smiled at Linda. “How about some bacon?”

As Sam started passed the T-junction out of Midwest, Amber looked back, then scooched forwards in her seat. After a few moments of shoving small amounts of the healthy treats in her mouth, she chewed and swallowed it down in several gulps. Once her mouth was empty, she cleared her throat and began to speak. “Sam?”

“Yeah?”

Amber sat her bag of raisins down, staring intently at the back of Sam’s head. “Can I ask you something? I mean, it’s not important, but like, you’ve got me really freaked out right now, and I could use a distraction.”

“Uh...sure. What’s up?”

“Yvette told me that you and Dean stopped the Apocalypse. Is that true?”

“Um...yeah.”

“Like, the literal Biblical Apocalypse?” Amber clarified.

“Like the one in the books, yeah.”

“Whoa. That’s crazy.”

“I know, right?”

“How did you do that? Like, did you have to kill Satan, or what?”

“Actually, it wasn’t all that hard.”

“Oh please. You expect me to believe stopping The End of Days wasn’t hard at all?” Amber rolled her eyes.

“Well, we had some help.”

“Oh?” Despite him being partially unable to see her face, she still gave the back of his head a curious look.

“We got help from an angel. He told us how to put Lucifer back into the jail cell he was broken out of. You know a lot about the Bible?”

“I was raised by nuns in the system, the Good Book’s a required daily read.”

“So you know about the whole-”

“Yeah. Lucifer was a jealous little dick, so God put his whiny ass in a timeout box at the bottom of Hell. Yadda yadda yadda.”

Sam smirked. “Yeah, something like that.”

Lucifer flickered into view, sitting in the passenger seat. **“I’m not whiny, or a dick. This girl’s got some nerve…”**

“So we followed the angel’s instructions, and we put him back in the...timeout box. Him and Michael.”

Amber’s joyful expressions melted. “Wait, what? Why Michael?”

“To be honest? Michael didn’t wanna stop the whole showdown. Wouldn’t let Lucifer go. So when we tossed Lucifer in, Michael went down trying to get him out to fight him.”

“Wait, so Michael, the Archangel Michael, was completely ready to throw down and destroy the universe, but Satan had enough of a second thought for you guys to get him back in his cell?”

“Funny how that works.”

“Yeah…” Amber looked away, letting herself slide back against the seat cushion. “That’s...strange.” She fiddled with the ends of her hair, paying attention to the scenery outside.

“Was that a good enough distraction?” Sam took his phone out and began furiously texting.

“...Yeah!” Amber looked up, smiling. “Please keep both eyes on the road!”

“I am, I am…”

At the diner, Dean’s phone chimed as Sam texted him. Dean covertly slipped the phone from his pocket and checked it.

_Heads up, we’re on our way. How’s Linda?_

Dean looked over at Linda, then spotted a rather non-noteworthy man in a denim jumpsuit and matching hat stroll in from the back, munching on a bagel with cream cheese. The man casually dropped himself at Dean’s table, drawing the Winchester’s ire.

“Excuse me?”

As if on command, the man’s features shifted like the lifting of a veil, revealing the man to be Loki. 

“And a good morning to you, as well.” Loki took another bite from his bagel.

“You son of a bitch…” Linda hissed and made her way over to the table. 

Loki held up his bagel-less hand, stopping her in place with an invisible barrier. Dean jumped, not expecting Loki to display any sort of power, then tried to play it off, assuming that this was probably what Sam hadn’t quite filled him in with yet. “Ah, you told me to stay out of Midwest. I believe that this is not Midwest, am I correct?”

“You really love your wordplay, doncha?”

“You forget what I am, Linda. I told you plainly last night. Now please can we make less of a scene for a few moments?”

Dean narrowed his eyes and rose an eyebrow. “What’s with the proper grammar?”

Loki’s face twisted quizzically. “I’m speaking in English, am I not? Am I incomprehensible?”

“Are you trying out for Midsummer Night’s Dream or something over there?” Dean took a sip of his coffee.

“Pardon?” Loki shook his head. “Never mind that. Linda, please-” he moved a chair out for her. “sit. This is important.” He took a bite of his bagel, then gestured to the chair with his eyes.

Linda hesitantly moved as he lowered his hand, as well as the wall, to let her pass. She moved the chair next to Dean, then sat down.

“I think they replaced these chairs…”

“I did. Earlier. They’re wrought iron. I needed them.” Loki smirked. “That’s what we must talk about.”

“...wrought iron?” Dean looked around, then widened his eyes and leaned in towards Loki. “Demons?” Loki nodded yes.

Linda leaned in, panic creeping into her face. “Wait, nobody said anything about demons. Like actual demons.” 

“I only discovered them when I arrived here. I had all the preparations for the Leviathans, but nothing for demons. It seems as if the local brood is in...uh…” Loki wolfed down a bite of his bagel, then closed his eyes and rotated his free hand for a moment. “in clandestine...uh...cahoots! Cahoots, right. In cahoots with the Leviathans. Not sure why. But they are. So I need you two to cooperate with me, and do everything as I say. _Intelligitis, aut alia lingua loquar?_ ” He smirked, taking yet another bite.

Dean closed his eyes for a few moments, trying to translate, but failed. “Just stick to English, buddy.”

“...Buddy?” Loki looked to Linda as he munched down another piece, hoping she would explain, and unfortunately got no reply. He turned his attention back to Dean. “Just, just listen. My plan is simple. I am going to set the fire alarm off. When it begins to rain in here, run out and get to the hotel. I am told Sam and Amber will be arriving very soon.”

“Who told you?” Dean queried.

“My doppelgangers.”

“Doppelgangers…?” Dean tried to make sense of the situation.

“Am I to assume Samuel has not quite informed you of the situation?”

“Yeah. He’s got a lot to talk to me about.” Dean pursed his lips and looked towards the window facing the road for a moment, then looked back at Loki.

“I am on your side, Dean. Just remember that.” Loki smirked, then stood up and set the small segment of bagel down. “Prepare yourselves.”

Loki tilted his head towards the kitchen, and with a snap of his fingers, the stove erupted in expanding flames, incinerating the fry cook and setting off the sprinklers.

Dean, who had been glaring at the side of Loki’s head, grabbed Linda by the wrist and ran out. He could see Sam flying down the road, and waved to him as he ran across the street to the hotel.

Sam grinned, then looked back at Amber, who had been near-motionless and quiet in the back for the last minute or so. Swerving into the parking lot, he nearly clipped the Firebird that was in their usual parking spot.

Linda turned around to watch in horror as Loki slid chairs and tables around to block in demons in a tight formation, burning their skin with the metal. He slipped a red vial from his pocket and tossed it up against the ceiling, letting it break and spread the liquid red substance on the tiles. Several doppelgangers showed up as the Leviathans fought in vain to charge him as he held his hand up, brandishing some sort of charm on a chain.

“C’mon! There they are!” Dean gave Linda a yank, jerking her forwards. She looked to the somber Amber, who was shuffling out of the backseat. Sam grabbed her bag of raisins and closed the door behind her as Linda shook free of Dean and embraced Amber.

“Hey. You alright, Linda?” Amber queried softly, reaching up and giving Linda a gentle hug back. Amber’s eyes seemed to pierce through both Linda and Dean, focusing instead on the diner for a moment before Sam lightly tapped her on the shoulder. “Right! Yvette said she’d be in your room, waiting.”

The quartet ran into the main hallway, where a trucker stood behind the desk, his left hand dripping blood with a blood-painted Angel Banishing Sigil behind him on the wall. Slamming his hand against the wall as the quartet made their way through the door frame, bolts of light engulfed the Winchesters’ party.

Amber screeched in terror as she braced herself, and as the lights dimmed, she continued to screech, letting it peter off as the demon trucker and the rest of the quartet stared at her.

She opened an eye to look at Linda, then to Dean, and up at Sam, then stopped screeching and dropped her arms, opening the other eye. “...What?” She looked around the group as the demon looked back at the sigil nervously. 

“What the hell…?” Dean muttered.

“Amber, are you alright?” Linda queried.

“I had to make it believable to buy myself time!” Amber replied, gesturing to the demon. “I mean, honestly. He almost had me! Almost!” She looked over at the demon, who was now looking around. “Too bad I’m smarter than him. I almost feel sorry that somebody sent him on this little suicide mission!”

“Those sons of bitches lied!” The demon shouted.

“No, no they didn’t. But you see, I’m just doing what I do best. I totally made you look.”

“Huh?” The demon leaned back, right into the open palm of the figure behind him. Leaning forwards, a second Amber shot her head around to get into the peripheral vision of the demon.

“I said, ‘Made ya look!’” Digging her fingers into his head, the demon began to burn away from the inside, and within moments, flames shot from his eyes and mouth before a plume of ashened flecks rose and bloomed into a cloud of death as the trucker’s body collapsed in her grasp. 

“And now ya can’t see anything! Ha!” The second Amber dropped the lifeless body to the ground, chuckling at her own joke. “Ah man, that was great!” She clapped her hands together, looking at the highly confused trio in front of her, who were busy either looking between the two or just staring at the second in a morbid fashion. “...What? No laughs? That was a great joke and a classic setup! The wordgames alone warrant at least a snicker…” The second Amber’s joviality began to sink as she realized that nobody was going to even utter a laugh. “...Mmph. Tough crowd today…” She slumped her arms back to their sides as her voice grew increasingly muffled by muttering. “Fine, fine, let’s just get to the hotel room…”

“What should I do?” The first Amber queried in a far less vivacious tone than before.

“Get. I got this. Good job, by the way.” Amber smirked. “You sold it nicely.”

“Right…” The first Amber smiled, then rapidly faded from view until there was nothing left.

“Okay!” The remaining Amber hopped over the desk, then turned to face the sigil. She pursed her lips, then lifted the entire reception desk and smashed it into the wall, damaging it entirely and leaving the sigil too heavily marred to use. “Let’s go! No time to waste…” Amber stretched the muscles in her legs quickly, then softly jogged to their room.

“Hey! Get back here, dammit!” Dean shouted. “Gabriel, you son of a bitch! How long have you been in there?”

“Room now, talk later, okay?” She replied, stopping in front of their hotel room for them.

“Gabriel?” Linda looked to Dean.

“...I knew you were a little off in the car…” Sam muttered.

The door opened, and Yvette popped her head out. “Oh. Good. You guys.” She appeared to do a count, then looked to Amber. “Where is he?”

Amber looked to Yvette. “He’s not in there with you?”

“I thought he’d be coming with you!”

Amber crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “Get over there and get him then! We don’t have time to waste!”

Yvette nodded and disappeared, leaving Amber to open the door wider, escorting the Winchesters and Linda inside.

“How long have you been here?” Sam queried as he walked past Amber.

“The whole time, more or less. Mostly less. ...I’ll explain.” She shut the door behind them, then turned to face them.

“Where the hell is my daughter?” Linda demanded, leaning in towards Gabriel, making the archangel hold her hands up in front of her.

“Whoa, hey, she’s right here. She’s just...riding shotgun right now.”

“How long have you been here, Gabriel?” Sam queried.

“I assume I’ve been here about as long as you two have. You came as soon as the first kid got eaten, right? Then yeah, same day. But I didn’t honestly know you were here until...well, Yvette told me. Got word of possible Winchester sighting, I couldn’t resist keeping an eye or two out.”

“So how come the summoning ritual didn’t work?” Dean asked, crossing his arms.

“I was probably unconscious. Like I said...I’ve not been all here, all the time.”

“...How long have you been...alive?” Sam’s hesitation on the word had followed a jumbled list of emotional expressions.

“About as long as I’ve been here, I guess. I don’t know.” Gabriel tried to shrink down and look away.

Before Linda could ask her next question, Yvette teleported in with Loki in hand, both soaking wet. With a flick of her arm, a large space heater appeared and turned on, roaring as she sat Loki down in front of it.

The Trickster sat shivering and coughing, wisps of iced breath and droplets of blood passing by his purpling lips. Yvette flicked her other arm, sending the hat and jumpsuit flying off and sinking to the floor in a squishy thud ten feet away, leaving Loki in the beater, boxers, and socks he was wearing underneath. “Featherface, I need your help. Move us and get your ass over here.” Yvette shifted a towel from the bathroom and wrapped it around Loki, trying desperately to dry his damp and cold skin before the water turned into a sheet of frost. “How did you burn through all your energy so quickly…?”

Gabriel winced, then turned around, placing her hands against the door. With a great strain, she shifted the room to her pocket dimension, rendering the door and the window both useless. Having done so, the archangel erased both of them before feeling the drain drag her down to her knees.

“Amber!” Linda fell to Gabriel’s side, grabbing her arms. 

Taking it as a sign that clearly she had overexerted herself and had done so in front of the Winchesters, Gabriel panicked and began playing it off as she stood up slowly. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Just a lot at once. Little dizzy, I’m fine…”

Gabriel shook off Linda’s worried grasp and walked over to Loki and Yvette. Summoning a large, iron wrapped, antique looking empty glass lantern into her hands, Gabriel knelt down at Loki’s feet.

“Yvette, lock him in place. I’m gonna cut’em loose.” Yvette wrapped her arms around his shoulders and locked her hands behind his head, then wrapped her legs around his waist. 

“Ready, Featherface.” Yvette sighed. “Boss, this is gonna hurt. So...brace yourself.” Loki grabbed her forearms and braced himself.

Gabriel’s hands began to glow, and she leaned forwards, holding her hands out towards his chest. “C’mere, ya little death ball…”

Thin cords of jet black energy rose from his chest, growing and twisting their way out towards Gabriel’s hands. Once the tendrils of translucent energy came within inches of Gabriel’s hands, she snatched the tendrils from the air, then began to tug.

Loki winced and grunted, digging his fingers into Yvette’s flesh and kicking his legs as Gabriel continued to pull upon the tendrils. The longer she tore at them, the more they emerged and lengthened, multiplying until the whole of the black light detatched from Loki’s body and caused the Archangel to fall backwards and the Trickster to sharply inhale and begin to relax.

Gabriel recovered fast, and with a quick head twitch, the lantern’s lid flung open, and she quickly jammed the ball of pulsing midnight sky looking light into the container, slamming it shut and locking it tightly.

Gabriel looked back at the trio, eying them warily. “Don’t any of you touch this, got it? I really do not have the strength to do that again.”

“What the hell is that thing?!” Linda queried.

“That...that is a thing you shouldn’t touch.” Gabriel stood up slowly, creating a hook in the ceiling to hang the lantern from. “This is a mean little piece of work, but it’s probably saved the hell out of us at least once or twice. So.”

Yvette grabbed the towel again and began to ruffle Loki’s hair and wipe down his body, sopping up the now-melting ice. 

“So you’re just gonna leave that...thing in here?” Dean protested, gesturing to the lantern.

“We’ll need it later. It’s a nasty little hunk of magic, but it does its fair share of butt-saving. Right now we just can’t dismiss anything from our resources.” She looked back at Loki, then back to Dean. “Besides, with you two muttonheads being completely unproductive most of the time, my buddy and I need all we can muster to keep everybody around here in one piece.”

Yvette finished and wrapped the towel around Loki’s shoulders. His condition had improved vastly; his skin was now its warm blushed tone, his breathing was back to normal despite the periodic coughs, and the shivering had subsided. “You said you’d be fine.”

“I...I think the borax was...too diluted.”

“Oh geez.” Yvette rolled her eyes. “And I would chastise you for the needless exorcisms instead of just killing the damn demons but-”

“You know I object killing anyone possessed by anything other than angels-”

“because you have a weird habit of doubting the person was willingly possessed, I know, Boss.” Yvette made a face. “You and your...weird pacifist thing.”

Yvette shifted a fluffy dark blue hooded bathrobe from her stash, as well as a pair of matching slippers and a dry pair of underclothing onto the bed in front of them. “Think you can stand?”

“I am not broken.” Loki sneered and began to push himself to his feet. After the first few seconds of torso movement, a coughing fit erupted, and Loki began to taste blood in his mouth, making him grimace as he continued to stand up.

“Don’t be tough just because the Winchesters are here.” Yvette rolled her eyes and teleported in front of him, then grabbed his arms and helped him up. “Featherface, he nee-”

“I know, I know. Pipe down.” Gabriel leaned back and glared before walking over.

Sam, not content to idle, walked over to the bar, grabbed a crystal tumbler and walked to the nearest sink to fill it. He was very certain that they didn’t have a lounge quality bar set up in their room, originally, but he didn’t think anything bad about it.

Gabriel held her hands in front of Loki’s chest, only to have the Trickster grab her arms at the wrists. “Conserve.”

“You’re in bad shape, _mea amicus_. Now shut up and let me patch you up; you can’t bleed out all night like that.” Gabriel softened her features, trying to appeal to his natural sensitivities.

“Yeah, surprisingly enough, it turns out human flesh, fat, and organs don’t like getting soaked in their own juices.” Yvette added.

“I hate when you give that look.” Loki narrowed his eyes.

“Don’t make me get really concerned.” Gabriel replied.

Loki huffed, then coughed. “...Fine. But only heal what’s critical. I can take the pain just fine.”

Gabriel rolled her eyes and grinned. “Yeah yeah, tough guy.” She set her hands against his chest, healing the ripped and torn assorted innards contained in his torso that the ball of energy had absorbed for sustenance. “Do this again, and I will let it eat you for a snack.”

“Sure you will.” Loki smirked as Yvette settled him onto the bed, shifting several collections of night clothes from the interdimensional storage unit Gabriel had essentially turned into a timelocked hoarder’s dumping ground.

“The hell is that?” Dean queried, eying it warily as Sam walked out of the bathroom and handed Loki the tumbler, now roughly half full of water.

Loki eyed the tumbler, then took it, sloshing the water around and spitting it back into the tumbler, now tinged in a reddish hue. He handed the tumbler back to Sam, who lurched away slightly.

“I, uh, think he meant for you to drink it, Boss.” Yvette commented.

Loki widened his gaze in understanding, then knocked the contents of the glass back once more, eliciting a full room collection of grimaces, flinches, and audible grunts of disgust.

“Yeah, no, not that either.”

“That was so unclean…” Gabriel commented, eliciting an eyebrow raise from Loki. “I know you’re not all here right now, but even for you, that was terrible.”

The Archangel sighed and shook her head, then turned her attention to Dean. “This, my favorite little muttonhead,” she gave a slick grin, waving her arms to ‘showcase’ the lantern as if on a game show. “is a ball of primal, Earth-borne shadow magic. Picked it up shortly after I first got down here. Ain’t it a beaut? It mimics a lot of my own powers near-perfectly,” Gabriel delicately spun the lantern by its bottom in admiration. “but it’s a hell of an energy sucker. Hoovers ain’t got nothin’ on it!”

“So the legend is true, then, about the sugar thing.”

Gabriel pursed her lips. “Well, sugar just happens to be the easiest form of energy to break down rapidly for a high payout. But I digress.” Gabriel sat down on the empty bed. “I know we have a great deal to talk about, but could I get just like, a twenty minute nap in?”

“I think you should at least tell the lady her kid’s okay.” Dean commented.

Gabriel sat a hand against her chest. “Amber’s just fine. I’m taking the utmost care of her, which is why I need a nap.”

“I...I need to know what you are. With all this Trickster nonsense, what the hell are you?”

Gabriel smiled. “To put it plainly, Linda, I am the Archangel Gabriel, Messenger of the Lord. You’ve known me much better as that guy over there,” she gestured towards Loki. “but today we had a group decision, and we all decided for Amber’s safety, I was better off in here keeping her from getting eaten by Leviathans. Because really? You trusted the Winchesters over my good ol’ buddy over there? I know he’s rough around the edges but...the Winchesters?” Gabriel grimaced. 

“...An angel. That’s the best you have to go with?” Linda crossed her arms.

“It’s, uh, true.” Dean replied, giving her a sympathetic look. “Don’t worry, when ya first meet’em, it’s hard to believe Gabriel’s something that dropped out of Heaven, but then you find out all the angels are grade-A douchebags and-”

“Um, hello? Remember what I said about saying those sorts of things about my family?” Gabriel narrowed her eyes. “Do you enjoy having your vocal cords intact and your tongue in your head? Then I suggest you stop.”

Dean closed his mouth and promptly turned to face Gabriel.

“Thank you.” Gabriel smiled. “Now, can I get my nap? I’m starting to feel cold and I just want to curl up under these covers and nap.”

“Hey pal, get your own bed.” Dean snipped.

“No problemo.” With a snap, the room doubled in size, providing enough beds for everybody in the room, and relocating the belongings of the Winchesters to two empty beds. The Archangel sighed deeply, shuddering. “Okay, I’m tapped out. Be back in twenty, maybe thirty.” She kicked her shoes off, then curled up under the covers and promptly fell asleep.

Dean looked to the recovering Trickster and his shade companion. “So, you two wanna fill us in while the angel’s napping?”


End file.
